Shadow of a Doubt
by Shelly
Summary: Donna, this isn't easy for me to say, but you have to promise me that you'll believe me. I'm not going to lie to you. You've been gone for over two years. We all thought you were dead.
1. Default Chapter

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Title: Shadow of a Doubt

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Author: Shelly

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E-Mail: NurseZelda@aol.com or shellysmk@yahoo.com

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Rating: PG-13

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Disclaimer: "The West Wing" is the property (and intellectual genius) of Aaron Sorkin, John Wells, NBC and TPTB. "Alias" is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot, ABC and TPTB. Use of these characters is strictly for entertainment purposes. I can only dream about one day getting paid to do this. Do not redistribute without express permission from the author.

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Summary: "Donna, this isn't easy for me to say, but you have to promise me that you'll believe me. I'm not going to lie to you. You've been gone for over two years. We all thought you were dead."

Commenced: 11/15/03 Completed: 1/20/04

First Posted: 1/20/04

Genre: Drama / Angst / Suspense / All of the above

Spoilers: Through fifth season, "Jefferson Lives." After that, I take a flying leap into A/U-ville. There's also a mention to the movie "Moulin Rouge." If you don't know how it ends and you don't want to know . . . you've been warned.

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Feedback: makes my heart sing!

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Archive: Fanfiction.net. Anywhere else? Just let me know, please.

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Author's Notes: I had told myself to be content with reading the wonderful stories in this fandom. I had promised myself that I wouldn't attempt to write in this fandom. Then there was the challenge from Tamara on JoshDonnaFF which was: "What if Donna died? But comes back to life after 2 years, with no memory of what happened over the past 2 years. Yes, like Sydney on Alias. :) Replace Vaughn with Josh though, and Lauren with Amy. And make it a happy J/D ending." - Post #17215, 10/26/03. How could I say no? Heck! I love Alias and I love West Wing -- the two shows that I make a *point* of watching each and every week! So, here it is -- my very first West Wing Fic. I hope you enjoy. Please note that for the purposes of this story, it is assumed that Sam won the special election for the House seat in the California 47th district. 

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Thank you: Special, special thanks to the following amazing people: To Jobsies for her daily encouragement. If you hadn't prodded me on, this wouldn't be finished. To Vikki and Julie for betaing a story from a series they don't even watch and telling me it was good to go. Again, to Vikki for her expertise of the San Diego area. To Fling and eman, for their beta skills, as well -- again, for a fandom they don't write for but for a series they *do* watch. Also again, to eman for the amazing, unsolicited fanart that will grace the .html version of this story, where ever it might be posted. You *are* a goddess! And finally to Shelley for taking the time to beta for a newbie and being a great guide. You're all the best!

Shadow of a Doubt

"Give me a reason to believe that you're gone. I see your shadow, so I know they're all wrong. Moonlight on the soft, brown earth, it leads me to where you lay. They took you away from me, but now I'm taking you home." 'Even in Death' - Evanescence

"Where has my heart gone? Trapped in the eyes of a stranger." 'Fields of Innocence' - Evanescence

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Part One

There was nothing Donna enjoyed more than watching fireworks on the Fourth of July. Well, to be honest, there was one thing she enjoyed more, but that . . . no, *he* was untouchable -- figuratively and literally. For the time being, she knew she would just have to content herself with the verbal sparring and wicked banter that defined her connection with her boss . . . her friend. *If* anything more was to ever come of that relationship, well, that was something Donna chose to not think about. Smiling to herself, she sipped from the glass of champagne that the subject of her thoughts had brought to her and stole a glance to her left. 

He wasn't there.

Curious, she looked around, wondering to where he'd drifted, when he'd just been standing next to her moments before. It was then that she glanced to her right, leaning forward slightly to scan the faces of the other White House employees that had lined the porch to watch the fireworks display. Amy was gone, too.

Suppressing a groan, Donna shook her head and downed the last of her drink in one long swallow. Josh had been 'off' all day, and the not-so-coincidental absence of both him and the shrew-beast-from-Hell pretty much spelled out where his mind was. She steeled herself against the feelings of unfounded jealousy for her boss and turned her attention back to the fireworks, trying to keep her mind off of Josh and what he was probably -- no, undoubtedly -- doing with Amy, but it was no use. 

Without a word, she turned and left the porch, deciding that a quiet evening at home was preferable to standing among her coworkers, pretending nothing was bothering her. She was halfway down the hall when she heard a distinctive laugh echoing from up ahead.

"Can't you wait until we get to my place?" the voice asked as the laughter subsided. Donna knew, without a doubt, that the voice belonged to Amy. She stood frozen in place, not wanting to take another step, her imagination, against her wishes, filling in the visual for what she was hearing.

It was not good.

She couldn't hear Josh's reply to Amy's question, but it must have been satisfactory because laughter rang out once again, and Donna heard the door open and close. They were gone, and she was, as usual, alone.

"Everything okay?"

Donna jumped and whirled around, nearly losing her balance and knocking C.J. over in the process.

"Whoa there," C.J. said as she placed a steadying hand on Donna's shoulder. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I . . . I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I was just going to grab my stuff from my desk and head on home." As she spoke, she gestured in the direction of the bullpen.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." C.J. patted Donna's arm and started walking. "I'm getting ready to head out myself. I'll walk with you."

It was obvious that C.J. had overheard the same things that Donna had heard and she recognized her friend's attempts at distraction. "It's just . . ." Donna began as the two walked past her desk and into C.J.'s office, "it's been a really long day." 

"It's been a long string of long days," C.J. agreed, depositing Donna on her couch before she was even aware of what was happening. "Now, do you want to tell me what the jackass has done this time?"

"Which one?" Donna asked airily, smirking and glancing over her shoulder at the deserted hallway.

"Let me clarify. That would be *your* jackass." C.J. offered a forced smile. She meant business.

Donna shifted her attention back into the room and sighed. "I think it's pretty clear that he's not *my* jackass."

C.J. nodded and walked toward the office door, glancing around before closing it and joining Donna on the couch. "Look, Donna, this isn't the Press Secretary and the Deputy Chief of Staff's Assistant talking here. This is you and me -- Claudia Jean and Donnatella. I mean -- I can't even pretend to fathom what there is between you and Josh, and before you start to protest, hear me out." Donna closed her mouth and nodded, her contradictions to C.J.'s words dead on her lips.

"I know you care about him, and I know he cares about you. I know there are . . . feelings . . . there that, for whatever reason, both of you are hiding and denying. I know it kills you when he's with someone else, just like it kills him when you are. I know there's . . . something . . . there and right now you're obviously hurt and confused. I can't offer a solution to your problem but I can be your shoulder to . . . you know . . . cry on, if you need it -- or your punching bag, for that matter, if you need that, too."

The knot in Donna's throat grew tighter as C.J. spoke, but she refused to cry. She nodded and sniffled, but wouldn't let the tears fall. When C.J. was done, Donna took a few deep breaths. "Thanks," she whispered, then added with a chuckle, "I'm not in any condition to confirm or deny anything you've just said -- but thanks for being my friend."

"Anytime." C.J. stood and collected her things. "Do you want a ride home?"

Donna stared at the floor and thought for a moment. "No," she replied. "I think I need some cinematherapy tonight. I'm gonna stop at the store on the way home. Tonight I want a little 'Moulin Rouge' avec le vin blanc."

"Drowning your sorrows with a bottle of white wine and Ewan McGregor? Sounds like a plan to me." C.J. offered Donna a hand and helped her off the couch. "Come on. I'll help you pick out a good Chardonnay."

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* o *

C.J. watched as Donna walked up the steps, opened the door to her apartment building, and waved. She waved back then pulled away from the curb, waiting until she was a block away before picking up her cell phone. They had talked a little more in the car, and Donna had mentioned in passing that she had been considering asking for a transfer. C.J. knew Donna would thrive on her own and needed more responsibilities than Josh was willing to give her.

She also knew that losing Donna to another department could spell disaster for the Deputy Chief of Staff and that 'more responsibility' wasn't the real reason why the idea of a transfer had entered Donna's mind. She hesitated, her finger above the button, reconsidering nosing in where she didn't belong, but gave in and pressed speed dial 3.

Four rings later, Josh answered, seemingly out of breath.

"Hello, jackass."

"C.J.?"

"What's the matter Josh? Out jogging at this time of night?" She couldn't help but needle him, since she had a pretty good idea that his labored breathing had nothing to do with Reebok running shoes. 

"Is something wrong?" he asked, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"I've got something to tell you, mi amore -- something that you really have no right to know and I no right to tell you. Consider this a gift." She could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind as she waited for the traffic signal to turn green and for him to respond.

"What are you talking about?" 

"I just dropped Donna off at her apartment with a full bottle of Chardonnay and a copy of 'Moulin Rouge.' You do the math." Try as she might, she was having a hard time maintaining a neutral tone.

"Oh, man. Which gomer pissed her off now?"

"Look in the mirror -- gomer." And with that she hung up. 'Let him figure the rest out,' she thought.

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* o *

Josh lay his head down on the floor, wiping the sweat from his eyes. C.J.'s cryptic words were echoing through his mind. He'd lost count on his sit-ups and his stomach was sore. "Damn." He stood up and paced his living room, trying to put the pieces together.

Donna had seemed to be in a perfectly good mood the last time he'd seen her. He had picked up a glass of champagne for her on the patio as they'd watched the fireworks. She'd smiled, and that was it. That was when he'd gone . . . with Amy.

"Damn."

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'Look in the mirror -- gomer.'

Donna thought he'd gone home with Amy, and she was pissed at him. That had to be it. An inexplicable, yet pervasive, feeling of guilt washed over him, and he reached for his car keys. Somehow, he knew he needed to make it clear to Donna that he hadn't caved and gone back to Amy. If he could get to her place quickly enough, she wouldn't have had too much of the wine and would be more receptive to whatever he was going to say. That part -- what to say -- was something he was going to have to figure out during the short drive to her apartment.

He opened his front door and took a step out into the hall before it hit him that was barely dressed. He looked down at his attire -- a pair of boxers and a sweaty, sleeveless T-shirt -- and quickly returned to the privacy of his living room, berating himself for working through his frustrations with sit-ups.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, especially after the verbal smack down Amy had laid on him when he'd suddenly changed his mind and decided to go home alone. He still wasn't sure what had made him change his mind -- sex with no commitment wasn't something a warm-blooded male in his right mind often turned down -- but it hadn't seemed right to him at the time. Physical exercise was the best outlet he could think of to burn off his unspent energy. Now, it was costing him time.

As he walked toward his bedroom, he picked up the phone and hit the speed dial. Donna didn't answer. He threw on a pair of jeans and traded his sweaty T-shirt for the dress shirt he'd worn to work and headed out the door into the night.

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* o *

"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, se sois . . ." Donna sang along with 'The Diamond Dogs' at the top of her lungs. Nearly half the wine was already gone, and she had the television up as loud as she could get away with without the neighbors calling the police. Another tear rolled down her cheek, and she reached for the box of tissues only to come up empty.

"The only problem with this movie," she explained to no one, "is that you know from the outset that there isn't going to be a happy ending. There's no surprise at the end." With very little grace, she unfolded her legs from underneath her and made her way to the bathroom to get another box of tissues. "That's why you look like crap, my dear," she told the puffy-eyed woman in the mirror. "There's not going to be a happy ending, and you damn well know it."

In the distance, over the strains of music blaring from the living room, Donna thought she heard her phone ringing. Before she could make it out of the bathroom, however, it had stopped. She shrugged and took another step when something pressed against her mouth and nose. She was dimly aware that her front door was wide open, and a fragment of her consciousness saw the cats making a break for freedom. Clutching at what she now knew to be a hand, she tried to pull herself free.

Then, there was nothing.

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* o *

Josh rounded the corner like a bat out of Hell. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but he knew he had to make things right with Donna before it was too late. The sensation of urgency intensified as he drew nearer, and for some reason, he felt close to a nervous panic. As he approached her block, he began scanning the curb for a parking space, hoping he'd get lucky and not have to walk too far. His nerves were screaming for him to hurry, that he was taking too much time.

Less than a block away, he located an empty spot on the opposite side of the street and quickly cut across to claim it. The fact that he was parking in front of a fire hydrant hardly mattered. All he could concern himself with was getting to Donna's apartment and quickly. A parking ticket was a small price to pay for clearing up her misconceptions, and making things all right between them. He hated to think that she might be disappointed in him.

He shifted the car into 'park' and removed the keys, fumbling in his haste to open the car door. He stepped into the humid night air and glanced toward Donna's apartment, noting, with some relief, that her living room light was still on. 

Then, it flickered.

The night suddenly erupted into a fireball, and Josh was thrown backward onto the sidewalk, shielding his eyes from the explosion. He could feel the heat, and his lungs burned with the fire. Shock claimed him, and he sat on the ground, watching in bewilderment as Donna's apartment building was engulfed in flame. The last thing he heard was the distant call of sirens before he gave himself up to the blackness.

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Tbc . . .


	2. Chapter 2

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Part Two

Sirens. Street noises -- like New York City. The thumping bass from a distant party. Donna's eyes fluttered open, but she held perfectly still. Her head felt like it had been packed with cotton that was spilling over into her mouth. With great difficulty, she pushed herself up off the ground and looked around. Swallowing against the desert in her throat, she struggled to her feet.

'How did I end up here?' she thought. 'Here' was an alley, somewhere in the city, and it was dark. The air was moist, but stale, mingled with the smell of garbage, courtesy of the dumpster a few yards away. 

Swaying dangerously, Donna took two steps and leaned against the cool brick wall, trying to regain her equilibrium. She raised a shaky hand to her face and ran her it through her hair, tucking it behind her ear. As she lowered her hand, something caught her eye. Her nails were longer than she remembered and were painted a bright red. She held her hand in front of her face and stared at it for several minutes, trying to remember when she'd gotten that manicure, but her thoughts were muddled and her memories unclear. 

Her last truly lucid thought was of being upset with Josh and drowning her sorrows in wine and a movie. 

"This is so strange," she said out loud, surprising herself with the huskiness of her voice. She sounded like she was coming down with a cold, but her throat wasn't sore -- just dry. She risked another slow glance down and realized that the clothes she was wearing weren't hers, either. They fit -- but she knew she'd never bought them.

The vagueness and uncertainty of her situation was beginning to frighten her, so she decided to get out of the alley and try to find a phone. Josh would know what to do. In that, she was confident. She exited the alley and glanced to the left and right, trying to get her bearings. 

The street didn't look familiar, but in Georgetown every street had a brick-faced, old, Colonial look to it, although the gas street lamps lent a nice authentic air to this particular area. The thumping bass, she discovered, was coming from her right, the Rock Bottom Brewery and Restaurant. 'Odd,' she thought. 'I didn't know they'd opened a franchise in Georgetown.' Her old roommate had frequented the bar located in Arlington, and Donna felt sure she would have mentioned a new, closer location the last time she had called to check up on her cats.

She looked again to the left and breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted a pay phone not too far away, and she dug into her pockets, hoping to find some change. She pulled out two quarters and picked up the receiver, inserting the coins into the slot. It was then that she noticed the address on the phone and began to physically shake with fear. 

She was in San Diego and had no recollection, whatsoever, of how she got there. 

"Okay, Donna, keep calm." Her mind was telling her that talking out loud to herself wasn't exactly the picture of sanity, but the sound of her voice, however rough and raw it was, somehow kept her grounded. She took some deep breaths and looked around. Across the street and a block further to the left was a Comfort Inn. She suddenly felt the insistent urge to get off of the street and into someplace less exposed. If she were lucky, maybe the desk clerk would take pity on her and let her use the phone. 

Holding on to that one thread of hope, she steadily made her way across the street and into the lobby. The desk clerk looked up at her as she walked toward him, an expression of concern flitting across his features. 'Damn,' she thought. 'Do I really look that bad?'

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

"I hope so," she replied, trying to keep her voice calm. "I think I've been in some sort of accident, and I was wondering if I could use your phone?"

The young man sprang into action. Apparently she *did* look as bad as it seemed. "Do you want me to call 911?" he asked, reaching for the phone before the sentence was fully formed.

"No!" Donna shouted, halting him in his tracks. She smiled reassuringly at the clerk and explained in a softer tone. "I really don't think I need 911 right now. I just need to call a friend -- but it's long distance. I can pay you for the call, but not until I get hold of someone. Please?"

'Please, please, please, please,' she thought as the desk clerk mulled it over. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, he nodded and lifted the phone up to the counter.

"Thank you," Donna smiled in gratitude as she grabbed the receiver and dialed the number from memory. One ring -- two rings -- then an annoying, musical tone. "We're sorry. The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service. Please check the number and try again." She frowned, disconnected the call and tried again. Once more, the recording informed her that the number had been disconnected.

"That's odd," she remarked and the clerk raised an eyebrow. "I must be dialing the wrong number," she explained. "Let me try once more?" He nodded, but this time she tried a different number.

After two rings, a familiar, albeit sleepy, voice answered.

"This is C.J. and this had better be good."

"C.J.?" Donna hadn't realized how close she was to tears until she heard her friend's voice on the other end of the line. "C.J. It's Donna. I need your help."

There was silence for a moment, then she began to rail. "Who the hell is this?" C.J. demanded. "Is this your idea of a sick joke?"

Shocked by the outburst, but fearing that C.J. was about to hang up, Donna talked fast. "Wait! C.J.! It's me, Donna! I'm in San Diego and I'm scared. I don't know how I got here and I have no one else to call. I tried to call Josh but his phone has been disconnected. I don't know what to do!" The tears were flowing freely now and she absentmindedly wiped her nose with her sleeve. "Please help me?"

"Donna?"

"Yes!"

"Donna Moss?"

"Oh, my God! C.J.! What's going on?" She gripped the phone tightly, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Hang on."

Donna waited while it sounded like C.J. had covered the mouthpiece and was talking to someone. After a moment, which seemed like an eternity to the frightened young woman, she came back on. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Donna took a steadying breath and wiped her eyes before speaking. "I was in my living room watching 'Moulin Rouge' and hating Josh. You drove me home after the fireworks." Her hands were still shaking, but at least C.J. was talking to her. A step in the right direction, she hoped.

"Holy sh . . . Where are you?"

"San Diego -- at a Comfort Inn. The desk clerk let me use the phone." She leaned heavily on the counter and rested her head on her hand, offering thanks to any and all gods that might have been listening.

"Let me talk to him. Don't move."

"Okay." Donna held the phone away from her ear and handed it to the clerk. "She wants to talk to you."

The clerk warily eyed the phone but took it and began talking to C.J. It was a mostly one sided conversation, his only spoken words being his name, "yes ma'am" and "no ma'am," and the address and phone number of the hotel. After a few minutes, he handed the phone back to Donna and began furiously typing something into his computer.

"C.J.?"

"I'm here, honey. Listen to me. Steve there is getting you a room for the night. I want you to go to your room, take a shower, get something to eat and -- most of all -- calm down. I'm going to call Sam. Lucky for us the House is in recess, so he's pretty close to you right now. I'm going to ask him to come get you. Until Sam gets there, I want you to stay in your room and talk to *no one* other than Steve and room service. Understand?"

"Yes -- but, what's going on?" Donna's heart and mind were racing now, trying to keep up with the whirlwind of questions she wanted answered.

"We're going to figure that out. I'm just glad you're okay."

There was a tangible element of relief and disbelief in C.J.'s voice -- something that terrified Donna more than her apparent loss of memory. "Wait, C.J., before you go. I need to call Josh but his number isn't working."

"Yeah." C.J. remained silent for a moment, then said, "Maybe he forgot to pay the bill. We'll talk to him later."

Disconcerted, but exhausted, Donna couldn't argue. "Okay," she relented. Her initial shock and confusion was abating and she lightly chuckled, "I probably could have called collect. I just didn't think of it when I realized where I was."

C.J. chuckled, too, but with a nervous edge. "It's probably better that you didn't," she cryptically suggested. "Now, go. Get some rest."

Donna filed her questions away for later and nodded, saying, "Thank you," before hanging up the phone. She turned to Steve who quickly rounded the desk and offered her his arm.

"Come with me Ms. Moss. I'll get you settled."

Grateful that she had someplace safe for the night, she allowed Steve to lead her to her room and order her something from the kitchen. She noticed he was keeping a close eye on her and wondered, briefly, what C.J. had told him. Finally, the exhaustion of her ordeal caught up with her, and she fell into a restless sleep.

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* o *

She woke with a start and opened her eyes, squinting against the harsh light filtering through the thin curtains. For a moment, she was confused, wondering where she was and what was happening -- a feeling not unfamiliar after the craziness of the 'Bartlet for America' campaign. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, the strange events of the previous evening replaying in her mind.

Sticking to the facts, Donna knew few things for certain: she was in San Diego, and she had no earthly idea how that had happened. Sam was supposed to come get her today and take her back to D.C. Hopefully he could supply her with some much-needed answers, too. 

How did she get to San Diego? Why was C.J. so obviously shocked to hear from her? Why wasn't Josh answering his phone?

Donna shuddered, forced the cacophony of questions to the back of her thoughts, looked around the hotel room and noticed a slip of paper sitting atop the dresser. She gingerly rose to her feet and padded across the room. The carefully written note explained that C.J. had asked the desk clerk to get her some toiletries and something fresh to wear and had supplied him with her clothing sizes. She needed only to call the front desk and they'd be brought up to her. 

A smile crept to her face. C.J. always thought of everything. She set the note to the side and picked up the phone, calling the front desk. Moments later, a package was delivered. She thanked the bellman and opened it to find jeans, a blouse, sandals, undergarments and toiletries. With another silent 'thank you' to C.J., she carried them into the bathroom, prepared to get cleaned up and, hopefully, feel a little more like herself, again.

Placing the items on the counter, she turned the shower faucet to hot and ran her hand under the water until it reached an almost-scalding temperature. Satisfied, she stood and began to undress.

It was then that she saw herself in the mirror and her jaw dropped. A stranger was looking back at her. With a gasp, she ran her hands up to her hair and tugged on a lock. It was hers -- not a wig -- but it was no longer blonde. Her hair had been colored a light brown and was trimmed to shoulder length. Her skin, normally so pale and luminescent, was slightly tanned, and she noticed, with dismay, a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose.

"This isn't me," she said to the brunette -- the reflection mirroring her every move. She continued to undress, hoping that the shower would wash away the unrecognizable creature she'd become, when something else caught her eye. On her right hip, just below her waist, was a small, black mark. Donna rubbed her hand over it, but it remained unchanged. Upon closer inspection, she recognized it as a small lightning bolt.

"A tattoo?" she gasped. 

During her first year of college, her friends had decided it would be cool to get matching tattoos. Donna had gone along with the plan, right up until her turn. She had chickened out and leapt from the chair before the artist could get the needle anywhere close to her. She had escaped unscathed, but had been around for the two week healing period that her friends had to go through. She knew, without a doubt, that this particular mark on her own hip looked as if it were significantly older than two weeks.

"But it wasn't there yesterday," she whispered, running her fingertips over the small mark once more. Her head was beginning to spin again and she could taste the bitterness of panic and adrenaline. Sam would have to have some answers, she kept telling herself. There had to be some logical explanation.

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* o *

The clothes C.J. had arranged weren't exactly her size -- she seemed to have lost a little weight. Donna examined herself in the mirror, noting that her cheeks seemed slightly sunken, and her upper arms were more toned than she remembered. It was beginning to sink in that she had been 'out of it' for more than one night. The thought alarmed her. The shower hadn't washed away the freckles on her face or the ones she had noticed on her shoulders, nor had her hair color returned to normal. 

"What happened to me?" she groaned, trying to force some recollection, no matter how slight. A knock at the door startled her, and she quickly crossed the floor. She peered through the peephole and saw a visibly agitated Sam bouncing on the balls of his feet on the other side.

Donna disengaged the lock and threw the door open. "Sam!" She wrapped the surprised man in an embrace and pulled him into the room. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."

He untangled himself from her arms and took a step back. Donna began to fidget. His eyes were wide and his mouth was set in a grim line as he looked her over from head to toe then back again before settling on her face. "Donna?" he whispered, his eyes narrowing.

"Sam, you're scaring me." They way he was looking at her made her hair stand on end. "I know I look different, and I'm not altogether sure why, but it's me." She had hoped that Sam would help allay her fears, but his reaction was causing her controlled panic to swiftly escalate. First C.J. on the phone, not believing that she was who she was, and now Sam, looking at her as if she were a stranger. It was almost too much to bear.

A moment passed in which she was sure he was going to announce her an imposter and storm out of the room, but her fears were finally laid to rest when his mouth spread into a wide grin and a tear slipped from his eye.

"Dear God, it *is* you."

Donna let out a breath and collapsed onto the bed, relief washing over her in waves. In a flash, Sam was sitting next to her, grabbing her hands.

"Donna, I talked to C.J. and she told me that the last thing you remember was the fireworks at the White House -- that she drove you home and you were watching a movie. Is that right?" 

Sam was speaking slowly and calmly, which did nothing but re-elevate Donna's fears. She nodded and he lowered his eyes, shielding herself from the unwelcome news she knew was coming.

"Donna, this isn't easy for me to say, but you have to promise me that you'll believe me. I'm not going to lie to you." He looked up at her again, and she was struck by his deadly serious expression. Unable to form words, she simply nodded and squeezed his hands for support.

"You've been gone for over two years, Donna. We all thought you were dead."

****

Tbc . . .


	3. Chapter 3

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Part Three

Sam watched carefully as Donna lowered her eyes and looked to the side, a slight smile of disbelief on her lips. 

"I'm sorry," she said. "It sounded like you said I've been dead for two years."

"Donna." Sam reached out and placed a finger on her chin, tilting her head and aligning her gaze back to him. "Donna, are you okay?" When C.J. had called him out of the blue and then proceeded to tell him who had contacted her, he hadn't believed that it was possible. He hadn't considered that it might be just as hard on Donna.

"No," she said, shaking her head, as Sam's hand drifted from her chin to rest on her shoulder. "That's not possible." Her eyes had grown wide and frantic, the realization that he wasn't joking finally sinking in. "That isn't true."

Sam could see that she was quickly beginning to lose control and grabbed hold of her shoulders, steadying her. "Donna, you have to calm down." He shook her, slightly, and her head jerked up, her eyes meeting his. "You need to stay in control here."

Donna nodded and closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. "Tell me what happened."

"I only know what I've been told," Sam began. "Remember, I wasn't there at the time. C.J. told me about how you two left the White House together and that you were upset with Josh."

"He went home with Amy," Donna supplied through thin lips.

"Right, so C.J. drove you home. I don't know what happened in your apartment, but after she dropped you off, she called Josh and told him about how upset you were."

Donna's head snapped up. "She didn't!"

"She did."

Donna covered her eyes with her hand. "Oh, God, what did he do?"

"He jumped in his car and headed over to your apartment. You see, he hadn't gone anywhere with Amy. He was home when C.J. called him -- alone. He tried to call you, but you didn't answer, so he drove over to talk to you." Sam stood and started to pace, knowing that the not-so-easy part of the tale was coming.

"I remember the phone ringing," she whispered, following him with her eyes. "That must have been him calling."

Sam paused and scrubbed his face with his hands. "This is the hard part. Are you sure you want to hear this?" He didn't know why he'd bothered to ask. Of course Donna would want to know. She was . . . well . . . she was Donna. At least, he hoped she was still Donna on the inside even though her outward appearance had been altered.

"Yes." Her resolve almost made Sam want to cry with relief -- she hadn't changed a bit. She sat up straight and pressed her hands into her knees, as if to brace herself against the unwelcome news.

"Josh made it to your street and had just stepped out of his car when your apartment, well, the whole building exploded." He said it in a rush, as if letting the sentence spill from his lips would make the news any easier to hear.

Donna's face turned white. "What?"

"The fire department called it a gas explosion. They said that there must have been some sort of leak in your apartment."

"Josh?" It was more of a squeak than a word or a question.

Sam nodded, knowing what she meant. "Saw the whole thing. The force of the explosion knocked him down, and he passed out. He's been beating himself up for that ever since."

Donna shook her head, vehemently defending Josh. "It's not his fault."

"Well, you can tell him that, now. Maybe he'll believe *you*." Sam relaxed a little when Donna allowed herself a smile, and he knew she was counting the seconds until she could do just that.

Her smile faded, though, and she sighed, her brow knit in concern. "I tried calling him, but his number wasn't working."

"There's more. C.J. wanted me to make sure you knew most of what's happened while you've been gone, but it's probably not going to be easy to hear."

"I can't imagine it being worse than being told I've been dead for two years," she quipped.

Sam shook his head and resumed pacing. "There wasn't much left of your building, and your remains were, well, char-broiled to put it mildly. The only way they could identify you was through dental records." He paused and covered his mouth with his hand. "How that got botched is a question for another day," he said to himself, filing it away for later scrutiny. "Anyway, Josh insisted on seeing your remains. I don't know if he thought that somehow he could make it not so -- you know, that maybe it wasn't you. Which it wasn't, so, go figure."

"That must have been awful for him," she said, her voice quavering. She climbed off the edge of the bed and started pacing in concert with Sam, something for which, he noted, she hadn't lost the knack.

"I'm sure it was," he continued. "But he wouldn't let any of us know that. You know how he is."

"Yeah." 

Sam knew that Donna was one of the very few people who could ever get Josh to open up. He hoped she wasn't going to pull a 'Josh' of her own and start blaming herself for what he still had to tell her.

"So, you were cremated. Josh took time off from work and flew with your remains to Hawaii where he scattered your ashes in the ocean. He insisted that was what you would have wanted. After that, he quit."

"Quit?" Donna stopped cold in the middle of the floor.

"Quit," Sam repeated, nearly running in to her. "He was dormant, politically, for a while until Amy convinced him to run for a Senate seat in Connecticut. He won, and they married. That was almost a year ago."

Donna was silent for a moment, then smiled, shaking her head slightly. "He married Amy?"

Sam sighed. "Somehow I knew that would stick out more than the fact that Josh is a Senator."

"Amy." Donna looked up at the ceiling, the smile fading quickly, and crossed her arms across her stomach.

"I can't imagine why I would have thought that."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Sam jumped out of the way as Donna bolted for the bathroom. 

****

* o *

Donna leaned over the commode until her stomach calmed. It wasn't Amy, she kept telling herself. Rather it was the stress of *all* the news she had to absorb that had caused her stomach to react so violently. She didn't care if Josh had thrown his life away by marrying that witch. 

She groaned and pressed her forehead against the cool porcelain when Sam politely knocked on the bathroom door.

"Are you okay in there?"

"Yeah," she acknowledged, using the counter as leverage to pull herself to her feet. She stared, once again, at the reflection in the mirror and fleetingly wondered how long it would take for her to get used to looking like a different person. 

"Do you want me to go get you a soda or something?" Sam asked through the door.

"A soda would be nice," she replied. "The room key is on the night stand. I'll be right out. I need to freshen up." Donna heard Sam leave and then turned on the faucet. She reached for a washcloth, running it under the cool tap water, then wrung it out and gently wiped her face. She then pooled some water in her hands and brought it to her lips, rinsing the bile taste out of her mouth.

"Can someone please stop this crazy ride?" she asked her reflection. "I really want to get off." Satisfied that she looked slightly better than death warmed over, she opened the bathroom door and sat down in the small armchair next to the bed.

Sam walked in a few moments later, carrying a can of soda for each of them. He popped open the tab on hers and handed it over. 

"I'm sorry," he said as she took a sip. "I wish I didn't have to be the one to tell you all of this."

Donna smiled. "I'm glad it is you, Sam," she sighed. "Really." She took another sip and felt her stomach begin to settle. "So, now what?"

Sam immediately shifted into business mode. "We need to get you back to D.C., but you can't fly commercial. You don't have any identification, being as you're dead and all, so I'll charter a flight. I'll go with you, and we'll get you all settled."

Donna nodded and followed Sam with her eyes as he walked the room and ticked off all the things that would be happening as soon as she got home.

Home. "What about my family?" Donna asked. "They think I'm dead."

Sam paused and considered her question before offering a suggestion. "Donna, the entire world, short of me, C.J. and Toby think you're dead. Until we find out why you're not -- not that I'm complaining -- it might be best to keep it that way."

Donna sighed and rubbed her temples against the persistent nagging of a headache. "I understand," she said, although she really didn't. The thought of her parents having to deal with her death -- such as it was -- broke her heart. The more she thought about it, though, she figured Sam was right. It would be better to have more answers than questions when she returned to the world of the living, especially where her parents were concerned.

"You're going to need a place to stay," Sam continued, resuming his circuit of the room. "I have plenty of room at my place, if you want, and with the hours I keep, I won't be there half the time."

Forcing a grin, Donna leaned forward and caught Sam's attention. "Samuel, are you asking me to move in with you? I'm flattered."

Sam cleared his throat. "It's just until you get things settled and can get a place of your own," he clarified, practically falling over himself to do so.

"Relax, Sam," she chuckled, feeling slightly better about her situation than she had since the moment she had regained consciousness in the alley. "It's just a weak attempt to bring the funny in an otherwise unfunny situation. I could always ask C.J. if I could stay with her, you know."

"I don't think Toby would appreciate that," Sam offhandedly replied.

"Toby?" Donna asked, wondering why Toby would care if C.J. had a houseguest.

"Yeah, Toby," Sam repeated, waving a hand in the air as if to dismiss anything that might cause him to lose his train of thought. "Look, I need to make some phone calls. Why don't you order some breakfast, and I'll get everything situated to get you home."

Donna nodded and reached for the room service menu while Sam flipped open his cell phone. Josh was a Senator. He had married Amy. Yet, against all odds, the world continued to spin. She shook her head and sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. Getting her life back, figuring out where she'd been for so long -- that would be simple in comparison.

****

Tbc . . .


	4. Chapter 4

****

Part Four

"So much has changed," Donna mused as they rode from Reagan National to Sam's brownstone in Georgetown. "There are at least twice as many Starbucks as I remember."

"You think that's bad?" Sam reached over and picked up her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "There's a CVS/Pharmacy on every corner where there's not a Starbucks."

Donna grinned but continued to watch the scenery. It was normally a relatively short drive, but Donna had asked, as a special favor, to be driven past the White House, so Sam had directed the driver to head up Constitution toward the Capitol so she could see the National Mall. As they neared the Ellipse, the hair prickled on the back of her neck, and she found herself fighting with her battered memory.

Every fiber of her being was screaming that she had just been there no more than two days ago, but the sad and frightening truth was that it had been twenty-eight months since she'd last set foot in the West Wing of the White House. All it took was the purchase of a random newspaper and a glance at the dateline to put the nail in that particular coffin.

Sam must have known that this part of the trip was going to be difficult for her. He held her hand tightly but remained silent, letting her work through her emotions on her own terms. After several moments of silence, Donna sighed and turned a grateful smile to Sam.

"I haven't thanked you yet for riding to my rescue," she said. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come when you did."

"Don't mention it," he replied. "You would have done the same for me." There was an awkward silence for a moment, then the car pulled to a stop. Sam looked out the window and nodded. "We're here."

****

* o *

C.J. paced in Sam's living room, wringing her hands. "Where are they?" she asked for the tenth time in as many minutes. "They were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago."

"Relax," Toby said. He hadn't moved from his seat on the couch and looked up from his hands only to follow C.J.'s relentless circuit around the room. "You're making me tired. Will you please come sit?"

She exhaled a puff of air, which blew her hair up out of her eyes, then crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I can't understand how you can be so calm and collected over there."

"It's my own special talent." The dry remark was balanced with a smirk that worked its charm. C.J. chuckled and crossed the room, dropping herself dramatically on the couch next to the usually somber Communications Director.

"To name just one," she replied softly, leaning her head on his shoulder. "It's just not every day that one of your friends comes back from the dead."

Toby grunted and rubbed his hands together. "I know Sam called, and he's certain it's her, and I know we have no reason to believe he could be fooled, but I'm not going to get my hopes up until she walks through that door."

"Always the practical one," C.J. mused, grabbing his hands and holding on to them tightly.

"I just don't want to be disappointed," he whispered, allowing her a rare glimpse at his tightly guarded emotions. 

She glanced at the thin gold band encircling her finger and realized how wrong she had been to think that it would have made any difference in the core personality of her husband. She did get to see a little more than the average person, but he was still deeply ensconced in his shell.

"I don't know what I'll do if it's not her," C.J. admitted. "I mean, she called me. Me, Toby, and I don't want to have to relive those horrible feelings again."

Toby cleared his throat and released her hand, throwing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "We'll jump off that bridge if we come to it," he said and C.J. couldn't help but smile.

"Lucy, we're home!"

C.J.'s heart stopped as Sam's voice echoed through the foyer and into the living room. She wanted to leap to her feet and run to meet him, but her fear kept her firmly rooted to the couch.

"Breathe," Toby reminded her with a gentle nudge as he rose to his feet. "We're in here," he called out, taking a step toward the doorway. C.J. still couldn't move.

"Toby?"

At the sound of Donna's voice, C.J. found her feet and jumped up, rushing past Toby, nearly colliding with Sam at the door. She took one look at the woman standing next to him and froze. Donna stood still, as if unsure of what to do next. When she pulled her bottom lip into her teeth and raised her eyebrows, C.J. knew without a doubt that this woman was indeed her lost friend.

Finally, Donna broke the silence. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she said with a small smile, repeating what C.J. had said to her in the hallway of the White House that fateful night. 

"Thank God!" C.J. pulled Donna into her arms and held her tightly, unable and unwilling to let her go. "I didn't want to believe it was true until I saw you with my own eyes," she explained. 

She continued to hold Donna until Toby tapped her on the shoulder. "There are others in this room that would like to get a chance, you know."

Reluctantly, C.J. pulled back and wiped her cheeks of the tears that had fallen. She locked eyes with Donna and they both had to laugh at the girliness of the moment. Then, Donna's eyes shifted to Toby, and C.J. moved to the side to allow him his turn.

"We've missed you," he said, taking a step closer. Donna nodded and smiled. "I've missed you," he clarified as he reached out and pulled her into an embrace.

C.J. took the moment to look at Sam. Given what he'd had to deal with, he looked remarkably good and she couldn't help but notice his beaming smile. He was watching the reunion take place before them with an unmistakable pride in his eyes. 

Sam looked to C.J., realizing that he was being watched, and reached out to her. He took her hand and pulled her to his side, whispering, "These are the moments I live for." 

****

* o *

"I like your hair," C.J. said. They were seated around Sam's dining room table enjoying a late brunch.

"Ugh." Donna ran her hands though the honey-brown locks. "Seriously?"

C.J. smiled and winked. "I know a really good hair dresser. We'll go as soon as you're up to it and get your goldilocks returned in short order."

"Oh, yes," Donna replied, shaking her head enthusiastically. She was starting to deal with the reality of missing out on two years, but it would be much easier, she knew, if the person in the mirror weren't such a stranger.

"Before you do anything," Toby softly interjected, "you really need to speak to the F.B.I. You've been . . . somewhere for the past two years and they might be able to help you figure out where that was. It won't be easy, but it is necessary."

"Besides," Sam added, "the Secret Service isn't going to be as accommodating as we are until you've been vetted."

Donna shook her head. "What does the Secret Service have to do with any of this? I'm not delusional enough to think I'm going back to work in the West Wing." She laughed lightly at her admission, hoping that her friends couldn't see through her obvious lie. As it was, she already felt like she was playing hooky and should be at her desk, hollering at Josh and doing good for the free world. She knew she still hadn't emotionally accepted the fact that she had been gone for more than a few days and everyone else had moved on.

"It's not that," Sam explained. "There are some other people who are going to want to see you, and the Secret Service has a vested interest in knowing everything about the people who come into contact with them."

C.J. rolled her eyes. "What Sparky is not-so-eloquently trying to say is that Leo and the President are going to want to see you, not to mention the First Lady and Margaret and Carol and . . . you get the picture . . . as soon as we tell them that you've returned from the great beyond."

Donna nodded and took a bite of cantaloupe, chewing it slowly while she formed her thoughts. "What about Josh?"

The room fell silent and Donna looked to each person in turn. None would meet her eyes.

She didn't want to be angry but was finding that emotion harder and harder to control. "Don't you think he should know that I'm alive? Or are you going to let him read it in the Post?"

"Of course he should know," C.J. jumped in. "We're just not too sure how to let him know."

"How about, 'Guess what? Donna's alive.' I mean, wouldn't that work?" Donna stabbed another melon section with her fork and sighed. "It can't be that hard."

"It's not that," Toby said. "It's -- Sam, did you tell her?"

"About the unholy union?" Donna had to chuckle at the way Toby smirked then quickly covered his mirth with a scowl. "Yeah, Sam told me."

"We don't talk to Josh much, anymore," C.J. explained. "Ever since you -- well, it was pretty much a downward spiral."

"I can imagine." Donna knew how much Josh held himself responsible over things he couldn't control. If he had, as Sam had told her, watched her apartment go up in flames, she knew he was thinking that he should have run in to rescue her. She knew he was blaming himself for her death. It was what he did. 

C.J. looked at her watch, then groaned. "I have to go," she apologized, rising to her feet. "I pawned off the morning briefing, but I really need to be there for the noon." She walked around the table and hugged Donna once more. "It's good to have you back," she said. "Can I come over later?"

"Please," Donna said. "I've got a whole bunch of White House gossip to catch up with!"

"I'll bring the Ben and Jerry's," C.J. promised. "We'll dish until the sun comes up."

Donna nodded and watched as C.J. turned to Toby, who had stood when she had. To Donna's surprise, she kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you later?"

"I'll peek in when I get to the office," he promised. "I want to make sure everything is settled here, first. Can you tell Ginger that my meeting is running a little longer than I had expected, and have her reschedule my other appointments?" C.J. nodded, then he kissed her in return. 

Donna watched their interaction with interest. Something was going on there. Something involving a ring on C.J.'s left hand and some oft-unseen emotions from Toby. She smiled, knowing she could easily get the details of that something after half a pint of Chunky Monkey.

****

* o *

"I talked to Agent Walters," Toby said as he walked into the living room. Sam was in his study making some calls, and Donna had settled on the couch, flipping channels, alternating between CNN, C-SPAN, and MSNBC.

"Do you suppose that one of these channels would be willing to give me their film archives for the last twenty-eight months?" she joked, muting the television and scooting over so Toby could take a seat.

"I think you'll find that not much of note has happened while you were gone." He sat next to her and looked at the pictures flashing on the screen. "Republicans are still the great evil. Democrats are still struggling to prove to the country that we're not just making that up. Nothing's changed."

"Everything's changed," Donna argued. "The worst part of it is that I have nothing. Absolutely nothing." A wave of anguish surrounded, and threatened to engulf, her. 

As if sensing her despair, Toby grabbed her hand and forced her to look at him. "That's not true," he said gruffly. "You have your friends, and we're not going to lose you again. Stay with us and we'll help you get through this. I know you. I know how strong you are. I've seen you stand up and succeed where most would fail. You won't disappoint me, now."

Donna swallowed her tears and nodded. "Thank you, Toby. I really needed to hear that."

"I know," he said, allowing her a rare grin. 

"Agent Walters?" she prompted and Toby nodded, filling her in on her meeting with his old friend, scheduled for the following morning.

****

Tbc . . .


	5. Chapter 5

****

Part Five

Not only had C.J. arrived with copious amounts of ice cream, she'd also been shopping and had bags full of clothes for Donna and the promise of a mind-blowing shopping trip when everything was cleared up.

Sam had wisely made excuses and left to visit with Toby while the ladies took over his Georgetown residence, allowing C.J. and Donna ample time to play catch-up.

The next morning, while she slipped on a new pair of jeans and a light blue sweater, Donna was still giddy from the news that C.J. and Toby were nearing their first wedding anniversary. Sam's guest room was amazingly comfortable, and she attributed the spring in her step and the sparkle in her eyes to a good night's sleep and the company of good friends. Toby was right -- she still had the most important things. Material possessions could be replaced.

Her initial meeting with the F.B.I. agent was fast approaching, and she brushed her hair into a ponytail, wrinkling her brow at the offensive color. As soon as she was done talking to the F.B.I., she had decided she was going to take C.J. up on her hairdresser offer. The dark color of her hair was really grating on her nerves.

She jumped when a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. 

"Donna?"

"You can come in, Sam." She gave herself one last look in the mirror and turned as Sam opened the door. His smile caught her off guard.

"You look like you slept well," he said, casually leaning on the door.

"I'm feeling better today," she admitted as she stepped toward the bed and sat down, reaching for the white shoes C.J. had also supplied.

Taking another step into the room, Sam said, "You're alive and you look refreshed and vibrant and, well, like the Donna we all remember."

Donna decided to take the compliment at face value. "Thank you." She looked around the room and added, "Thanks for putting me up, too. Your place is gorgeous."

"Ah, it's nothing," Sam said, waving off her appraisal. "I wanted to peek in and offer my apologies. I have a couple of meetings to get to this morning, then I need to get back to California until this recess is over. I wanted to see if you would be okay with your meeting or if you wanted me to get C.J. or Toby to come sit with you."

"I'll be fine," Donna assured him as she tied her shoes. "Besides, it might be easier to talk to a stranger. I can dispense with the emotions, you know?"

"Yeah." Sam looked down at the floor and sighed. "Speaking of emotions . . . do you want me to talk to Josh for you?"

Donna knew he was gauging her reaction. Calmly, she stood and walked across the room until she was standing right in front of her friend. "No, Sam. When I'm ready to talk to him, *I'll* talk to him. I think I need to be the one to tell him -- don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

They stood in silence for a moment until Donna patted Sam on the shoulder and turned him around, pushing him out the door. "You need to get going or you'll be late for your meetings," she reminded him. "I'll be fine."

"When all is said and done," he said as she followed him to the door. "When you're ready, you should consider coming to work for me." He turned and winked at her as she smiled broadly. "Seriously. I could use your expertise at man-handling."

Donna swallowed her smile and pointed at the door. "Go!"

He raised his hands in surrender. "I'm gone. I'll call you later to check up on you." With that, he was out the door, and Donna was alone.

****

* o *

Thirty minutes later, Agent Walters arrived. He and Donna settled in the living room with a carafe of coffee and some bagels.

"Thank you for seeing me, Agent Walters," Donna said through sips of her coffee. "I appreciate your taking the time to come here."

"Toby's a good friend," the Agent explained with a smile that lit up his green eyes. "When he called yesterday and explained the situation, I couldn't say no."

"I suppose it's not too often that a White House employee dies then comes back from, as C.J. put it, the great beyond, huh?" She continued to study him, noting that the small lines around his eyes spoke of years of misguided sun worship. 

"You can say that again," he said. "But, it's not just that. It's your missing time, and your change in appearance, *and* the fact that your dental records may have been altered to make it appear that you were dead when you really weren't."

Donna had to steady her hand and place her coffee cup on the tray. "Are you saying that this was all planned? That someone purposely did this to me?"

"What I'm saying, Ms. Moss, is that if you weren't who you are, and didn't have the kind of people vouching for you that you do, I would think that you faked your own death, blowing up a building in the process. That's what it looks like."

Donna's mouth dropped open as her mind processed the Agent's words. "Are you serious?"

"Completely serious," Agent Walters replied with no trace of the friendly smile remaining. "As I said, if it weren't for the caliber of your friends, you'd be under a much more serious investigation. A check of your financial records would have taken the most time -- seeing if you had any secret accounts -- things like that. Once that would have been out of the way, we would have moved on to other options. Since you are who you are, we can skip all of that."

"Wow." She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap and processed this new information. "That's not the case," she finally said. "I really don't know what happened that night, and I can't remember anything that's happened to me since."

His smile returned and he nodded. "Okay, I want you to try really hard to remember everything about that evening, July 4th of 2003, in detail." Agent Walters took out a legal pad and a pen and prepared to take notes.

****

* o *

Donna retold her version of the events of that night, peppered with numerous questions from the Agent, ending with the now newly-vivid memory of a hand being placed over her mouth and nose just before her memory blacked out. She capped off the meeting with a retelling of how and where she woke up. Agent Walters took some digital pictures of her and made note of the physical changes. Then he thanked her, shook her hand and told her he'd be in touch and to contact him if she remembered anything. When she closed the door behind him, it was well after lunch.

As promised, she called C.J. and told her how the meeting went and they made plans for dinner, with C.J. hinting that she might be able to get out earlier so they could spend a little more girl-time together. C.J. also told her that she and Toby were going to try to get Leo to come over and see her, taking the next step toward reintegrating her back into the real world -- something Donna found she wanted now more than ever. 

After a brief snack, she curled up on the couch with CNN and realized the meeting had taken more out of her than she had originally thought. Before she could consider getting up and moving to her bed, she had fallen into a deep sleep.

****

* o *

Donna opened her eyes and struggled to see through the fog. She was lying flat on a table and when she tried to shift her position, she found that her legs and arms were bound. Her chest constricted in fear, and she struggled to breathe steadily, knowing that if she were to give in to the panic and hyperventilate, she'd likely die. 

Slowly, she turned her head to the right and took in the room. It looked very much like an operating room. It was white, bright and sterile and the caustic small of chemicals assaulted her nose.

Looking to her left she saw a counter with cabinets above and below. They looked to be stainless steel and the bright overhead light reflected off the buffed surface, causing her to squint.

She wanted to scream, but she seemed unable to instruct her vocal cords to comply. Her ears popped and cleared and she heard, for the first time, a rhythmic beeping noise, one that she instantly recognized. She was hooked up to monitoring equipment. A mental switch flipped, and she realized she was in the hospital. 

Battling with her increasing panic, she tried to remember when she'd been in an accident. Nothing was clear. What worried her more was the fact that she was alone. As if someone had read her mind, a door opened somewhere behind her, and she started wiggling against her restraints, trying to get that person's attention.

When the person came into view, her eyes widened in terror. This was no doctor or nurse, and it became painfully clear that she wasn't in any hospital when then man held up a large syringe and, with an emotionless smile and icy-cold eyes, plunged the needle into her neck. A wicked burning sensation traveled up and through her brain and, with a silent scream, she blacked out.

****

* o *

Donna sat up on the couch, clutching her neck and screaming. It took a moment for her to realize that she'd been dreaming and that there was no one else in Sam's house. She leapt to her feet and reached for the phone, feeling confident that her dream had something to do with her lost time, but by the time she'd picked up the receiver and started to dial Agent Walter's direct line, the dream had faded from memory.

"Damn it!" Donna slammed the phone down and decided she was going to have to sleep with a notebook by her side. If her missing time was going to tease her from her dreams, she was going to have to be prepared to take notes.

Her throat felt dry and constricted, and she started for the kitchen to get a glass of water when a persistent knocking on the door interrupted her. Thinking it was C.J. making good on her promise to try and get away early, she practically ran into the foyer, looking forward to sharing her harrowing experience with someone who would understand and not over analyze, but mostly just glad that she wouldn't be alone. 

Without looking, she threw open the door. "Thank God you're . . . " Her words died on her lips. It wasn't C.J. who had knocked on the door.

"Oh, my God." Her visitor turned white and stared at her, reaching out one hand, tentatively, as if afraid if he touched her, she'd break or fade away. "D -- Donna?" he whispered, the word barely escaping his lips.

"Josh," she breathed. "Come in."

****

Tbc . . . 


	6. Chapter 6

****

Part Six

Josh's heart stopped. He was acutely aware that the blood has ceased pumping throughout his body, which meant he was most certainly dead. There was no other logical explanation for the apparition that had answered Sam's door. This woman looked and sounded so much like Donna that her voice caused a physical ache in his chest. If it wasn't for the hair . . .

"Josh," she said, her voice like the breath of angels. "Come in."

Dumbly, he nodded, and she stepped back from the doorway, allowing him entry. Josh walked forward slowly, sure that this would be his first step into the hereafter and found himself wondering how Sam's townhouse had become the gates of heaven. Or maybe this was hell?

"Stop loafing, already," she hissed, gently grabbing his arm and pulling him inside. She felt real enough.

Josh turned and looked her up and down, taking in every inch of her being. She stood in the foyer, quietly allowing the scrutiny. His gaze came to rest on her face, and she locked eyes with him before rolling those blue eyes in exasperation.

Only Donna's eyes could give him such a look and have it thrill him rather than annoy him.

"Donna?" he asked again, reaching out to run a finger along her jaw. She didn't move, just closed her eyes, visibly shivering at his touch. "Is it really you?" he asked, a catch in his voice. It was difficult to talk around the lump in his throat. So many times he'd wished that her death had been nothing more than a bad dream, that she'd be standing before him, as she was now, real and alive.

"It's me," she replied, as his hand dropped from her face to his side. "I'm here." She stepped forward, cautiously closing the distance between them, and reached out her hands, placing them lightly on his shoulders. "Why don't we go sit down and I'll explain."

Josh took a step back from her, shrugging off her hands as the initial shock wore away and the impossibility of what he was seeing began to register. "Who are you?" he demanded. His blood was flowing again, this time beating a thumping staccato in his head. He raised a hand and rubbed his eyes, continuing to back up until he hit the wall.

"Josh," the woman said, sharply, pulling his attention from the pain working out from his temples. "It's really me -- Donna. Let me explain."

The solidity of the wall at his back served to focus his thoughts, and he held out a hand, halting her slow advance toward him. "I don't know who you are, but you're not Donna. I saw her die. You *are not* Donna. How did you get in this house?" His tenuous grip on control almost slipped as the roll of questions poured forth, his voice rising until his was nearly shouting by the end.  


"Damn it, Joshua," she shouted back, balling her hands into fists and dropping them to her sides. "If you don't believe me, pick up the phone and call C.J. She'll tell you that it's really me." Her voice softened as she added, "You don't look good. Can I get you a glass of water? Oh, my God -- your blood pressure. Are you okay? Maybe you should sit down."

He nodded, wondering to what, exactly, he was agreeing, and she carefully walked to the kitchen, glancing back at him every other step. He heard the tap run and listened to the cadence of her footfalls on the hardwood floor as she returned to the foyer. She held the glass out to him and smiled, "Peace offering?"

Josh silently took the glass from her hand, careful to not touch her in any way, and took a sip as he processed the situation. "C.J. knows you're here?" he asked, examining her again. If it wasn't Donna, then this woman was a remarkable doppelganger.

"And Toby and Sam," she confirmed. "Can we sit down now?"

She walked past him into the living room and settled onto the couch. Deciding that it seemed like the reasonable thing to do, Josh soon followed, choosing a wing chair in the far corner of the room instead of the opposite end of the couch.

****

* o *

Donna sighed and tried to think of something to say that would convince Josh that it was her and not some freakish double sitting across from him in Sam's living room. He seemed dangerously close to a meltdown, and she supposed she would be too if the situation were reversed.

A majority of her thoughts, since waking in the alley, had centered on seeing Josh again. Now that he was there, she could tell it wasn't going to easy for him to readily accept her return. 'How ironic,' she thought, 'that now I'm the one who's had time to process and move on, when I was Josh's shoes just yesterday.'

Swallowing her emotions, she focused on staying calm -- anything to make the situation easier for Josh to comprehend. She could deal with the thumping cadence of her own heart, and the way seeing him caused a warm ache to spread through her soul, later.

She smiled and took a deep breath, knowing that the best way to remove a bandage was to pull it off quickly. She hoped that applied to mental bandages, too. "So, I'd like to tell you what I know now. Can you, you know -- not be you for a few minutes so I can?"

His lips twitched into a smirk, and he seemed to relax, just a little.

Donna took that as a 'yes'. "Good. This may sound a little strange. Well, a lot strange unless you're some kind of weirdo that this kind of thing happens to on a regular basis. You see -- I woke up two nights ago in an alley in San Diego. I had no idea how I got there or where I was until I found a pay phone. When I realized where I was, I knew I couldn't afford it with the two quarters in my pocket. It didn't occur to me to call collect which -- in retrospect -- would have been even more disturbing because no one would have accepted the call, I'm sure. Anyway, I was scared and confused so I found a nice man in a hotel who let me use his phone and I tried to call you. Except you were out of service, so I called C.J. She was surprised to hear from me but I was able to convince her that it was me, and she called Sam and asked him to come see me." 

Donna took a breath and looked up at Josh. He was watching her but had a somewhat familiar look in his eye. She recognized the glint as the one he usually reserved for the visitors on Leo's Cheese Days -- his 'you're a raving lunatic, but I have to listen to you anyway so let's get this over with' look. "I'm losing you, aren't I?" She laughed nervously and shook her head. "I told you it sounds crazy, but it gets better. Sam showed up and told me that I was dead. Well, not really dead -- obviously -- but that everyone thought I was dead.

"The crazy thing is that I don't remember any of this. The last thing I remember is going home after the fireworks and drinking some wine. As far as I'm concerned, that happened three days ago." Donna's gaze had drifted down to her lap, and she stared at her fingers, which were still sporting the bright red manicure.

"What happened after you talked to Sam?"

Donna's head snapped up. Josh was leaning forward in his seat, his arms resting on his knees and his hands clasped tightly together. "Sam told me everything," Donna continued. "Everything about what happened that night. About how you were there." Her throat tightened, seeing the pain flash in his eyes as she spoke. The wound was still fresh in his mind; she could see it all over him. 

"Sam made arrangements to get me back here and we did -- get back here, I mean -- yesterday morning. C.J. and Toby were here, and Toby set up a meeting for me with a friend of his at the F.B.I. I talked to him this morning. That's about it. I don't remember anything, and everything I had is gone." She leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes. The gravity of her situation still scared the hell out of her, and she needed to collect herself before continuing.

When she opened her eyes, Josh was standing in front of her. "When were you planning on calling me?" he asked, his tone eerily neutral and even.

"I . . . I don't know," she admitted. "I wanted to figure out how to tell you."

"And 'Josh, I'm alive' wasn't good enough for you?" His eyes had a glint again, but it was his 'I'm going to the Hill to kick some ass' glint. Josh was angry.

"It's not that easy and you know it," she said.

"Not that easy?" he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "Not that easy?" 

Donna shifted back in her seat, knowing that this was just the buildup to the major eruption that was coming.

"Do you want to know something that's 'not that easy?' I saw your apartment explode, Donna." Josh had shoved his hands in his pockets and was pacing the room. "I saw it go up in flames, and then I saw you." He turned and pulled one hand out, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You! I saw your burned body, and I had to tell them it was you. I . . ." he swallowed and turned away from her, his voice lowered as his continued. "I scattered your ashes."

"I know," she whispered. "Sam told me."

"Yeah," he turned on her again. "Sam seems to be on top of everything, isn't he?"

"Josh, that's not fair. I tried to call you."

"Whatever," he dismissed her with a frantic wave of his hand. "I can't do this, Donna. I can't."

"Can't do what?" She hadn't moved from the couch, knowing instinctively that it was safer to let him have the symbolic higher ground. "I don't understand."

"It hurt too much to lose you, and now it hurts too much to have you back." The words were almost a whisper, something he obviously was loath to admit.

"*You* don't have me back," Donna said. "I'm back, but I'm certainly not yours. You have Amy." As the words came out, she regretted them. She had crossed the line, but all the anger she'd been holding inside poured out.

He turned to face her then, and she could see the pain in his eyes. "I never wanted Amy," he admitted.

"Then why did you marry her?" Donna asked, hating the accusing tone her words carried and also wondered when she'd become his therapist.

"Because you were gone."

"What are you trying to say, Josh?" They were close to something, either a breakthrough or an eruption. Either way, the conversation was coming to a head.

"Damn it, Donna, I lo. . ." He stopped and scrubbed his hand over his face. "I needed you!" The sheer volume and venom with which they were spoken tempered her bewilderment at what he had nearly said. "I needed you, and you left me!"

"I left you?" Leaping to her feet, Donna crossed the room in two steps and brought herself nose to nose with Josh. "I *left* you? I was taken, Josh. I really didn't have much choice in the matter." She was getting good and angry now, the near-admission of his feelings resting slightly behind her indignation at his accusations. "You 'needed' me?" she emphasized the word 'needed' suspecting he had meant something altogether different. "If you 'needed' me so much, why the hell did you leave with Amy that night? Hmmm?"

"Because I couldn't go home with you," he replied, simply. Then he turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the center of the room, slack-jawed. It wasn't until she heard the front door close that she realized he was gone.

She clumsily back-stepped to the couch and sat down, hard, when her calves bumped against the cushion. Now that he was gone, the dam she'd built against her emotions broke free and a hand flew to her mouth to stifle the sobs.

Josh had very nearly told her that he'd loved her. This realization should have left her giddy and tingling, she knew, but her heart was beating too hard and too fast in her chest to focus on anything other than calming down and breathing normally.

She'd been gone, dead to him, for over two years -- yet, to her, she'd seen him days before, and her mind hadn't had the chance to process and analyze any feelings she might have for Josh -- not like he'd had.

Yet, she knew she loved him.

For some reason, sitting on Sam's couch with her hot, salty tears running down her freckled cheeks, she knew deep down that she'd always loved him on some level.

Why did it feel like her heart was breaking?

****

* o *

Special Agent Erik Walters was a twenty-year veteran of the intelligence community, having joined the Bureau directly after college. In all his years, he had heard many strange tales, but none so far had intrigued him like the strange disappearance of Donna Moss. Out of deference to his old friend, Toby, he had agreed to conduct the investigation under the radar until he had some concrete leads. In the meantime, Donna would be living at Congressman Seaborn's residence in the relative protection of her friends.

The only problem with running an investigation under the radar was that if another assignment popped up, it would have to take precedence. It was for this reason that Agent Walters didn't get to start on Donna's case until late afternoon. He settled into his chair with a full cup of coffee and looked over the notes he'd taken during his interview.

It wasn't just the fact that Toby was his friend that made this case so important to him. After meeting with Donna, he truly wanted to help her figure out what had happened to her. This was not going to be one of those instances of bad things happening to good people -- not if he could help it.

He booted up his computer and uploaded the digital pictures he'd taken, then issued a scan request in an attempt to match her features with any photos or video camera stills taken within the date parameters of July 5th, 2003 through to present. Then he leaned back, propped his feet up on his desk and continued with his notes, waiting out the search but not expecting to see anything for several hours, or even days.

He spent a moment mulling over the fact that whomever had dumped her in San Diego, if that was the case, had gone through a lot of trouble to find an area that closely resembled Georgetown. It was as if they had wanted her to wake up as disoriented and confused as possible.

A ding pulled his surprised eyes back to the monitor. The notebook fell to his lap as the computer completed the analysis of the match it had found. Erik Walters dropped his feet to the floor and leaned over his desk in order to examine the hazy video still the program had found. He reached the same conclusion seconds before the program. Erik now knew, with 98% accuracy, where Donna had been and whom she had been with on August 12th of 2004, and he wasn't looking forward to telling her.

****

Tbc . . .


	7. Chapter 7

****

Part Seven

The sun had long been set when a knock at the door roused Donna from the couch. She had been sitting, staring at the television but not really watching anything. After she'd calmed down, the thought had briefly crossed her mind to follow Josh and finish their discussion, but memories of past altercations convinced her otherwise. It would be best to let him come to terms with her return before trying to forward their conversation.

As she neared the door, her breath hitched as scenarios played out in her mind. She'd open the door and Josh would be standing there, looking contrite with a bouquet of flowers held in his outstretched hand. His lips would curl into a smirk, and he'd waggle his eyebrows at her before tossing the flowers over his shoulder and pulling her into an embrace.

And all would be right with the world, which pretty much guaranteed that would never, ever happen.

She sighed and chided herself for her naive thoughts before opening the door.

"We come bearing gifts of Chicken Chow Mein and Egg Foo Young!" C.J. exclaimed, holding a large brown bag in her outstretched arms. The savory smell of Wong's Chinese filled Donna's senses and she closed her eyes, realizing immediately how very hungry she was.

"Oooh," Donna smiled and took the bag, stepping back to allow C.J. and a rather quiet Toby to come inside. It was then that she noticed a third guest. The bag nearly forgotten, she shoved it into Toby's hands and cried, "Leo!" quickly covering her mouth with her hands, surprised at her volume.

He smiled broadly as she stumbled over an apology, mortified that she'd squealed at him like a schoolgirl.

"Oh, be quiet," he admonished, walking through the door and standing before her. "At my age, one of the biggest thrills I can get is when a woman squeals at my presence." He held his arms open and nodded. "I think I deserve a hug, though."

Donna quickly stepped up and wrapped him in a friendly hug, laughing and almost crying. "I can't believe how emotional I'm getting," she explained as she took a step back and closed the front door. They started walking toward the dining room. "I mean, as far as my addled mind is concerned, I've had a short vacation."

Leo walked beside her with his hand on her arm. "It's just the stress of the situation, but let's not talk about that right now." He pulled on her arm causing her to stop, and she turned slightly to face him. "Let me take a look at you," he said, and he did, beaming with happiness as his eyes swept her from head to toe. She resisted the urge to do a runway-model turn and instead stood still for his scrutiny.

"You look . . ." he shrugged, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Alive?" she supplied, and he nodded. "And hungry," she added. "Come on, we'll talk over dinner."

****

* o *

The dining room table was littered with little white containers and packages of duck sauce and hot mustard. The dinner conversation had been light, and C.J. seemed to be in charge of directing the course of the topics which ranged from staff gossip to a variety of nutball things the press corps had tried during Donna's absence.

C.J. had just finished telling a story about a photographer from the San Francisco Chronicle and a mishap with a floodlight and a floral arrangement in the Mural Room that had Donna wiping tears from her eyes. Her sides were aching from laughing too hard but it felt good -- good to be alive.

She hadn't mentioned Josh's visit, but as the conversation tapered off, Donna figured she'd better bring it up.

"So," she said, "I had a visitor this afternoon."

C.J. cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at Donna. "No one else knows you're here," she commented. "Who stopped by?"

Donna swallowed uneasily. "Josh."

Leo's eyes widened and he shook his head. "What happened?" he asked, his tone indicating that he had a sense that it hadn't gone well.

"He's a little angry with me, I think." Donna shrugged, acting as if it was no big deal to have Josh mad at her for not being dead.

"A little?" Toby asked, his monotone belying the spark of anger she saw flicker in his intense eyes.

She sighed deeply and offered a weak smile. "Okay," she conceded. "I suppose apoplectic is a more accurate description of his reaction."

"That sounds about right," Leo commented, under his breath.

"Are you okay?" C.J. asked, reaching for Donna's hand. "He didn't say anything to hurt you, did he?"

"Hurt me?" She laughed weakly. "No. Confuse me? Yes. He also knows that you and Toby and, obviously, Sam knew I was here."

"I can handle Joshua," C.J. said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Don't worry about me. I think I'll give him a call tomorrow, get in a preemptive strike."

"Don't," Donna said, squeezing her friend's hand. "He's hurting," she explained. "I don't want to make it worse."

C.J. hesitated before nodding. "Okay -- but if he calls me and starts yelling, all bets are off."

"That's fair," Donna agreed. She looked to Leo, who had been quietly listening and smiled. "Now you're in on the conspiracy, too. How does it feel to be a co-conspirator?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," he quipped, then he looked over to Toby and C.J. "Do you guys mind if I have a little private time with Donna?"

C.J. and Toby shared a look then stood. "Why don't we clean up in here," Toby suggested as C.J. started collecting the dead containers and chopsticks. "You two can go talk in the living room."

****

* o *

Leo sat on the couch opposite Donna. "It's good to have you back," he said, the simplicity of the statement intensified by the look of profound happiness and relief in his eyes. "We've missed you, terribly."

Donna smiled, shyly. "Thanks."

"Some of us more than others." Leo leaned back into the arm of the couch and rested his hands on his knees.

"I can imagine," Donna replied, thinking of all the friends that she had inadvertently left behind.

"No, you can't." 

Leo's sharp reply caught her off guard, and she shook her head in confusion. "Excuse me?"

Leo's voice softened. "You got a taste of it this afternoon." Donna nodded as she realized whom he was talking about, and he continued. "He was destroyed when you died, Donna. He wouldn't talk to anyone except me, and even then it wasn't enough."

Josh went through it alone, she interpreted. "What about Stanley?" She hoped deep in her heart that someone -- anyone -- had made sure that Josh talked to his therapist. That would have been her job -- had she been there. But then -- had she been there -- he wouldn't have needed to talk to Stanley.

"I don't know," Leo shrugged. "I hope so. You know about his sister, don't you?"

"Joannie?"

"Yeah."

Josh had told her about the death of his sister during one of their rare, serious, personal talks; sometime after the first campaign. "Yeah."

"He watched his house burn, Donna. He couldn't do anything to save her. He was just a little boy, but he still feels like if he would have done something, anything, she might still be alive."

Donna shook her head. "It wasn't his fault. You said it yourself, he was just a little boy." She folded her arms across her chest, wondering why she was still feeling so protective of Josh after the way he had treated her earlier.

Leo nodded and sighed. "I know that, and on some level, he knows that, too. But, you know Josh."

Josh -- the man who felt personably responsible for everything, as if he had the power to change the world. "Yeah -- I know Josh," she sighed as that thought flitted through her consciousness.

Leo placed a hand on Donna's knee, and his expression turned grave. Donna swallowed, bracing herself for what was coming next. "He watched your apartment burn, Donna. He couldn't make himself go in after you."

The pieces were starting to fall into place. Leo was trying to help her understand Josh's volatile reaction, but it wasn't there just yet. "He blames himself," she stated, working it through mentally as she spoke. "Sam told me."

"Yeah."

"But, Leo, he saw me today. I didn't die. It wasn't his fault, and I didn't die." That fact seemed to be enough for everyone else. Why wasn't it enough for Josh?

"You have to understand, you've been dead in his mind -- in all our minds -- for more than two years now. It's not easy to let go of those feelings of guilt. Now, he probably feels that if he'd tried to rescue you that none of this would have happened." Leo looked off into the room, nodding as he mentally agreed with his verbal assessment.

"I was taken, Leo," Donna explained. "The explosion was a cover-up. By the time he would have made it to what was left of my apartment I would have been long gone, and he probably would have gotten himself killed in the process." She shook her head and swallowed, trying to choke down the lump forming, once again, in her throat. It would be just like Josh to blame himself first for her death then for her resurrection.

"You try explaining that to him," Leo said with a derisive snort.

"Yeah," she nodded in agreement. "That won't be happening anytime soon."

Again, Leo's tone softened and he said, "You have to know that you meant a lot to him."

"We were friends," she quickly replied.

"More than that," he said with a knowing smile.

Donna sighed and looked down at her lap. "I think I'm starting to see that."

She looked up in time to see Leo's eyebrows shoot up. "Did he say something to you today?"

"Almost," she said, thinking back over what had been said, or almost said. She knew there was something more -- something he had quickly tried to cover, but his emotions had been laid bare. "The conversation disintegrated rather quickly."

"I can imagine."

"What do I do?" She was desperate to make things right, to take away Josh's pain.

"Give him time," Leo suggested, shrugging. "He'll come around. He just has to process all of this."

Donna nodded and digested Leo's words until her mind hit a brick wall. "He's married, Leo. To that . . . that . . ."

"Skank?"

Donna nearly choked at Leo's use of her favorite pet name for Amy. "Yeah," she agreed through her chuckles.

He sighed and raised his hands in a 'what the hell' gesture. "I know. We're all pretty sure she took advantage of a bad situation."

It was Donna's turn to snort; knowing that Leo had hit that particular nail on the head. "Well, that would have been a first," she commented dryly.

Leo smiled, then his eyes narrowed. "How about you?"

"What about me?"

"The missing time. That has to be hard. Have you remembered anything?"

Donna paused and thought hard, trying again to recall anything. "No, not really. I had a dream this afternoon, before Josh came over, and I'm sure it was something, but I can't remember any of it now. I woke up scared -- that's all I know." She clasped her hands together and worked on calming herself.

"Missing time is scary in itself. I know from experience."

Donna's brow creased in confusion, "How?" 

Leo smiled wryly and held out his hand as if to shake hers. "Hello, I'm Leo McGarry, and I'm a recovering alcoholic. Perhaps we've met before?"

Embarrassed, Donna dropped her gaze to her lap. "Oh," she mouthed.

Unfazed, Leo continued, "Granted, it wasn't more than a couple days at a time, but it's still disconcerting to know that you've been doing *something* and you can't remember what."

"Yeah," Donna nodded. It was disconcerting. The world had moved on and she hadn't -- or if she had, she had no recollection of any of it.

"What I'm saying is . . . " Leo reached out to her and tipped her head up with one finger under her chin. "If you need someone to talk to, I can relate."

The look in his eyes calmed all her fears, if only for the moment, and Donna was instantly grateful. "Thanks," she whispered, feeling the warmth of tears pooling in her eyes and she knew, then, that with her friends, she'd make it through this and out the other side.

****

Tbc . . .


	8. Chapter 8

****

Part Eight

'Donna is alive. Donna didn't die. Donna has been alive for the past two years. Then whose body did I identify? Whose ashes did I scatter off a cliff in Hawaii? Why didn't she come home sooner?'

Josh poured himself another scotch and downed it in one swallow. The voices in his head were going to have to shut up sooner or later. He was banking on sooner and hoping that the liberal application of the amber-colored liquid would make it so.

He had made it back to his townhouse in one piece, still kicking himself for his behavior toward Donna. He'd run over to Sam's when he'd heard he was in town, hoping to surprise him and get in some guy time before the insanity of the next session began. A ghost from the past -- a ghost that had been haunting his dreams since the Fourth of July 2003, had greeted him instead. 

It had shocked the hell out of him.

He poured one final shot into the tumbler and carried it upstairs, pulling his dress shirt out of his slacks with his free hand. His townhouse was quiet and peaceful, as it often was when Amy wasn't there, and Josh nudged the bedroom door open with his foot.

Placing the glass on the nightstand, he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders and pulled his undershirt off over his head. His body temperature rose as the scotch began to take effect, and he kicked off his shoes before unbuttoning his slacks and slipping them to his feet. With one hand on the edge of the bed to help with his balance, he kicked the pants off and across the floor and sat down with a labored sigh.

Donna was alive. He should be thrilled. Why was he miserable? One look at the glass of scotch and her voice filled his head, lecturing him on the evils of drinking too much. God, how he'd missed her.

****

* o *

Donna aimed the pistol at the target and fired over and over again, the kick of the weapon stinging her hands and reverberating up her arms with a pleasing, numbing kind of pain. When her clip was spent, a buzzer sounded and the target automatically began to move forward on the motorized track. As it neared, she saw with pride that all her shots had hit dead center. She was getting much better.

A pat on her shoulder confirmed her self-assessment, and she turned to her instructor with a smile, sliding the large, plastic earmuffs to her neck. The man nodded his approval and held out his hand for her weapon, which she gave him without question.

"Soon, Theresa," he said to her, as he popped the empty clip from the butt of the automatic. "Your training is coming along nicely."

"I'm still not pleased with my hand-to-hand skills," she lamented as they walked slowly from the shooting range. "I think I need to spend more time . . ."

"Not to worry, dear," her instructor interrupted. "We'll make sure you're fully prepared before we send you out." He nodded at the question in her eyes. "Soon," he promised and the word echoed as the blackness closed around her.

Donna sat up in bed, and with the memory of her dream still fresh in her mind, reached for the steno pad and pencil she'd placed on the nightstand. Furiously, she detailed every moment of the strange dream, including the fact that the man had called her Theresa.

She read over what she'd written and, satisfied, climbed out of bed and walked out into the living room. The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed the hour, and Donna ruefully noted that it was the middle of the night, yet she was wide-awake, fueled by the notion that her dream must have been a memory of some sort.

What the hell was she doing firing a gun? And darn well, too? And why was the man calling her Theresa? She'd gone to sleep hoping that her dreams might offer some answers. She'd awakened to more questions -- and disturbing ones, at that.

Controlling the urge to call Agent Walters, she instead turned on the television and curled up on the couch, flipping through the channels with a crazy kind of urgency, willing her stubborn mind to give up more of its secrets. 

****

* o *

Josh shot up, the sweat pouring off of his body in rivulets. His nightmares had returned with a vengeance, but instead of the same terrifying reliving of the night Donna had died, this time he was held, paralyzed, while some dark figure carried her away from him, laughing maniacally, as her apartment blazed all around him. 

Willing his heart to return to a normal rhythm, Josh concentrated on his breathing -- in and out, in and out -- until he felt his muscles relax and the tension lessen. Thinking a shower would help; he kicked off the covers that had become twisted around his legs and stepped onto the cold hardwood floor, stripping off his boxers as he walked.

As he turned on the faucet, his thoughts returned to Donna. She had tried to explain things to him that afternoon, but he had been an ass, reacting instead of listening. The room began to fill with steam as he replayed their conversation in his mind, and he slid back the door and stepped into the spray, relishing in the almost painful, needlelike pricks of the hot water as it pounded into his neck and back.

She had been afraid and had tried to call him. She had awakened in an alley with no memory save when he last saw her, and she had thought first of calling him.

Josh leaned against the tile and closed his eyes. To say that he had been an ass was a massive understatement. He had been so concerned that everyone but him had known she was alive and hiding out at Sam's place that it had just now registered that she had tried to contact him first.

He tried to wrap his mind around the concept of waking up in some sort of Twilight-Zone-on-acid-time-warp and realized that she must have been more afraid that she had let on. And he had yelled at her. With a flick of his wrist, he turned the hot water to cold and stood under the freezing stream until he felt sober and awake enough to function, then turned off the water and quickly dried himself.

He had to make things right -- or at least apologize.

****

* o *

Donna was just drifting off to sleep when a light knock at the door startled her. She glanced at the television and checked the time in the lower corner of the screen. CNN said it was one thirty-three A.M. Pacific Time. Quick math put her current time at four-thirty. 

The light knocking persisted.

Cautiously, Donna stood and tip-toed to the front door, her mind playing though all sorts of scenarios that would call for someone to be knocking on Sam's front door at the ungodly hour of four-thirty. None prepared her for what she saw when she looked through the peephole.

She sighed and slid the chain lock from the track and slipped the dead bolt open, then slowly opened the door. Before she could say a word, a single pink rose was shoved in front of her. Upon closer inspection Donna noticed that it wasn't, in fact, a rose, but pink cellophane wrapped chocolates on a plastic stem.

"Peace offering?" he said and Donna had to laugh, taking the candy flower and inviting Josh inside.

"I'm sorry it's not real," he said as he followed her to the living room. "Do you know how hard it is to find flowers in this city at this time of night? I wound up at the 7-11 up the street and punted."

"I suppose I should be thankful it's not a Slurpee," she laughed. "It's just as well," she said, placing the gift on the end table before returning to her cocoon on the couch. "I wouldn't know where to begin to look for a vase in this place -- if Sam even has one."

Josh snickered. "I'm sure he does, but he'd never admit it. Maybe to you, but not to me." He was standing in the middle of the room; his hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets. "Can I sit?"

"Oh." She tucked her legs underneath her, freeing up the remainder of the couch, and nodded. "I'm sorry. Please. Sit."

He did, choosing the end of the couch this time. "Did I wake you?"

"No," she lied. "I couldn't sleep." She nodded toward the television. "I figured I'd take the time to try and catch up with the rest of the world."

Josh looked down at his hands and pursed his lips. "I . . . I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier today."

"Don't." Donna interrupted him and leaned forward, reaching for one of his hands. "You don't need to apologize."

"Yes, I do," he replied, looking up at her with a slight smile while taking her fingers into his strong grasp. There was a twinkle in his eyes, and Donna's heart soared at the sight. She knew this expression well. Everything was going to be okay. "I was an ass, Donna, and you can't argue with that."

"Well." Donna smiled and cocked her head to the side. "Can I get you to put that in writing?"

"Nope. And I'd deny it under oath." His smile broadened, and she mirrored it with her own. "I'd like to talk more about what happened," he said after a beat. "I want to help you."

Touched, Donna squeezed his fingers and withdrew her hand. "I'll tell you everything I know," she promised. "I don't think there's much you can do though." His face fell, and she quickly amended, "Not that I don't want your help. If I think of anything, I'll let you know."

"Okay," he said. "I just . . . I want to make this up to you, if I can."

Donna smiled, taking his words at face value but knowing that it went much deeper than that. "How about I fix us some coffee and we'll talk."

****

* o *

Donna and Josh sat at the small kitchen table sipping coffee while Donna rehashed her story, filling in all the parts that she'd previously left out but skipping over her recent dream. Josh had listened intently, interrupting once or twice to ask questions but mostly just soaking up everything she had to say.

"It was nice to see Leo last night, and C.J. is trying to arrange a meeting with the President and Dr. Bartlet. I think the Secret Service is going to balk at that idea, though, until I have some answers," Donna sighed and finished off her coffee, placing the empty mug on the table in front of her. "My top priority right now is getting this fixed." She pointed to her head then pulled on a lock of hair.

"It's not that bad," Josh told her, studying her features. "It goes good with those freckles you've picked up."

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "God only knows how much damage I've done to my skin," she mused as she raised a hand to her chest, rubbing it as if in memory of a long-healed sunburn. "I just don't know how I would have, in my right mind, allowed myself to get this much sun."

Josh dropped his eyes and nodded. "I think that's it right there. You weren't in your right mind."

Feigning insult, Donna gasped, "Gee! Thanks!"

Rolling his eyes, he looked up and smirked. "You know what I mean."

She grinned. "Yeah, I know. It's just fun to bait you."

"It's nice to know some things haven't changed."

"But so many others have," Donna remarked, her eyes drawn to the gold band on Josh's left hand. She quickly averted her eyes when she felt him watching her, and he moved his hands together, casually covering the ring with his right hand. "I haven't had a chance to congratulate you, Senator Lyman."

Showing a rare display of humility, Josh blushed and waved her words away. "It's nothing," he said. "If Sam can do it, anyone can."

"Right," she said, "It's nothing at all."

A bit of his cocky swagger eked back in, and he puffed up his chest and smiled. "I guess it is something, isn't it?"

"If you start beating your chest and yodeling like Tarzan, I'm outta here." They both dissolved into laughter and Donna felt, for a moment, like no time had passed at all.

Then, Josh looked at his wristwatch and sighed. "It's getting late -- or early. Whatever. I should be getting back."

"Yeah." Donna watched silently as he slid his chair back and stood, biting back any comments about his wife and if she knew where he was and why.

"I meant it when I said I want to help," he said. "If you need anything, please call me."

"I don't have your number," she reminded him.

He grinned and reached into his back pocket for his wallet, producing a business card. He glanced behind her and picked up a pen from the counter, quickly scribbling some numbers on the back. "Here. Memorize these numbers and don't ever hesitate to call me."

She took the card from him and smiled. "I promise."

He started for the front door, and she hastily leapt from her seat to follow. "I'll let you know if I remember anything," she told him.

Pausing at the door, he turned and leveled a serious stare on her, taking her breath away. "You'll remember everything," he stated. "If I know you -- and I'm confident that I do -- you won't stop until you remember. I have faith in you." That said, he turned the knob and stepped out into the dawn.

****

Tbc . . .


	9. Chapter 9

****

Part Nine

It wasn't until much later in the morning when Donna realized that Josh hadn't talked about himself at all. It struck her as odd since it was his favorite subject and decided to call him later in the day. As much as she needed to regain her memory and take back her life, he also needed to work though his demons and come to terms with things out of his control.

She had showered and dressed and was brushing out her hair when the phone rang. Expecting it to be Sam, calling to check in, she was surprised to hear Leo's voice.

"Donna, can I come over?"

His tone was quick and short -- very businesslike. Something was up. "Sure," she replied and without so much as a 'bye' he hung up. She finished with her hair and pulled it up into a ponytail before rushing to straighten the living room and kitchen. Moments later, the doorbell rang and she hurried to answer, surprised that Leo had made it over so quickly.

Agent Walters stood on the front stoop.

"Oh!" Donna stepped back and beckoned for him to come in while making excuses for her reaction to his presence. "Agent Walters, I wasn't expecting you," she explained. "Leo McGarry just called. He's on his way over."

"The White House Chief of Staff?" Erik asked as she shut the door behind them.

"Yeah," she said. "Would you like to sit down? We can go to the kitchen if you'd like something to drink."

"That would be nice, and please, call me Erik."

She led him to the kitchen, listing an inventory of beverages on hand. When he had settled on an iced tea and they were both seated at the table she asked, "So, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"I was wondering if you've remembered anything since we talked?" he asked, avoiding her question with a question. 

Donna recognized the tactic and filed it away for future reference before answering. "I had a vivid dream when I was napping yesterday, after you left, but when I woke up I couldn't remember anything. However," she added, "last night I had another dream. This time I wrote everything down as soon as I woke up."

"Excellent," Erik said. "Can I see it?"

"I'll go get the notebook." Erik nodded, and Donna stood, quickly walking through the foyer and down the short hall to the guest room. Her mind wandered as she picked up the steno pad and returned to the kitchen. Erik had told her he'd be in touch with her if he found anything and now he was here, but being evasive. Something had come up in his investigation, and he was hesitant to tell her, of that she was certain. 

"Here it is," she said as she re-entered the kitchen and handed the notebook to him. 

He glanced at it and shook his head, handing it back to her. "I don't suppose you could translate, could you?"

"Oh." She looked at the page and realized that her handwriting, while usually slightly legible, was far from it in this instance. "I'm sorry, I was still half asleep when I wrote this."

"No need to apologize," Erik assured her, raising a hand to quiet her words.

Donna smiled and read her notes to the Agent, noticing as she did that his expression seemed to darken. When she finished, she looked him in the eye and said, "I know you found something. Please tell me."

He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a pounding at the door.

"That must be Leo," Donna said as she hopped up and ran to answer. She opened the door to see a visibly shaken Leo grasping an envelope in his hand. Without a word, he stepped past her into the foyer and waited for her to close the door behind him.

"I got this today," he said, handing her the envelope. "Do you know anything about it?"

Donna studied the envelope and shuddered. In her own distinctive penmanship was written:

Donna Moss

c/o Leo McGarry

There was no return address or stamp.

"How did this get to you?" she asked, turning the sealed envelope over and over in her hands.

"Courier," he replied, shrugging. "At first I couldn't figure out why someone would be sending you something through me, then I realized it was your handwriting. I thought you should see it right away."

"Donna?"

Leo and Donna both turned to see Erik leaning against the doorframe, holding her notebook in his hand.

"I'm sorry," Leo said, taking a step back toward the door. "I didn't realize you had company."

Donna clasped his arm and held on. "Stay, Leo. This is Toby's friend, Agent Walters. I think you should both stay while I figure this one out." Leo nodded to the Agent and they, all three, walked to the kitchen.

She stared at the envelope for several minutes while Leo and Erik discussed her case. She was hoping that having something tangible from the time she was missing would trigger more memories, but she was afraid of what the contents of the envelope might be.

"Donna?" Erik touched her hand and pulled her back from her thoughts. "Are you going to open it?"

"I'm almost afraid to," she admitted. 

Leo nodded and smiled. "Go ahead. It'll be alright. We can't deal with it until we know what it is."

Drawing strength from his words, Donna opened the envelope and pulled out a neatly folded sheet of paper. She unfolded it and smoothed it on the table. "It's my handwriting for sure," she said. "And it's dated three weeks ago."

"Read it out loud," Erik suggested. 

Donna nodded, took a deep breath, and began reading aloud:

"You're no doubt confused and wondering what's going on. I'm going to try to explain this as quickly and concisely as possible and hope that the conditioning wasn't a success. You've probably already figured out that you were taken from your apartment over two years ago, but you probably can't remember much, if anything, of what happened after that. If I understand the process, you might have been having some dreams. Hopefully they've been vivid. If they are, then everything should be okay, and we might have beaten them."

Donna looked up from the letter and shrugged. "This doesn't make sense, and I'm the one who wrote it."

"Keep reading," Erik requested. "It makes more sense than you know. I'll explain when you're done."

Donna nodded and continued. "The plan is to reintegrate you with your friends and co-workers so you can regain their trust. The way the programming works is, when the time is right, you will be contacted with a trigger word. This word will switch on your training, turning you into an alternate personality of sorts, and you'll do as you were programmed to do. In your case, you've been programmed to commit murder."

She paused and placed the letter on the table. "This is ridiculous," she stated, nervously laughing. "I'm obviously playing a very sick joke on myself." She looked at Leo. His eyes were wide, and he slowly shook his head. She picked up the letter, found her place and read further.

"I can only hope that when the time comes you'll be able to resist the programming. I took a chance in writing this letter, in the hopes that I could explain things to you and that you'll believe. You have to take this to the F.B.I. They'll be able to help you. In the meantime, act as if nothing has changed. Go on with trying to find out what happened -- a perfectly normal reaction and one they'll be expecting. You can't let them know that you've figured it out, or everything will be lost. Above all else -- avoid Josh. If you're not around him -- if you don't have access to him -- you can't hurt him. He's your target."

Donna dropped the letter as if it had singed her and shoved it across the table into Erik's waiting grasp. "That's insane," she said, covering her mouth with shaking hands. "I couldn't ever kill anyone -- least of all Josh."

Leo's gaze was flitting back and forth between her and the Agent and the letter. "What do you think, Agent Walters?"

"It all fits," he said, without looking up. 

"What do you mean?" Donna shouted, rising to her feet to pace the tiny kitchen. "Are *you* insane?"

"Donna, sit." Leo's tone brooked no argument, and she did as she was told. To Erik he said, "What do you mean it all fits."

"This letter, her dream and the photo I found yesterday," the Agent explained as he finished rereading the letter. He looked up at Donna and smiled grimly. "It's a 98% match," he stated as he slid a photo across the table and into her waiting hands. "This is a still from a security camera at a small airport outside of Phoenix. The shot was taken on August 12th of last year." He waited a moment for Donna to take a good look at the photo and hand it over to Leo. "The man you're standing next to is Alan Shastro, a.k.a. 'The Programmer'."

Leo shook his head. "This sounds like a twisted interpretation of 'The Manchurian Candidate'." He placed the photo on the table and looked at Donna. "What do you think?"

"Well, my first reaction is that this is an extremely bad knock off on some 1960's spy novel but . . ." she shrugged and pointed to the photo. "That's the man that was in my dream. I find it impossible to say it's just a coincidence that I'd have a dream where I'm in firearm training with that man *before* hearing all of this. I mean, it's highly improbable."

She looked from Leo to Erik then back again. "I'm like a ticking time bomb," she lamented. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to fight this . . . this . . . "

"Suggestion," Erik supplied.

"Whatever . . . when it comes. What if I go all nutty and actually try to kill Josh?" Donna was quickly beginning to unspool, she could feel it. Just the thought that someone could get inside her head like that made her nauseous. 

"Donna, one more question." Erik waited for her to calm down and acknowledge him before continuing. "This may sound silly, but do you have any tattoos?" 

"No," she replied instantly, then remembered the mark on her hip from the day Sam picked her up in San Diego. "Wait. Yes, I do." She stood up and unbuttoned her jeans and started to unzip the fly when Leo stood up.

"Maybe I should leave the room," he mumbled.

Embarrassed, she paused. "It's okay, Leo. It's on my hip."

"Still," he called over his shoulder, already halfway out of the room. "Holler when it's safe to come back in."

She waited until he had rounded the corner to pull down the right side of her jeans. Just below her waist was the small, black lightning bolt. "I didn't put that there," she told Erik.

"I know," he said as she zipped and buttoned, then called for Leo. He returned wearing a blush and a grin, and she couldn't help but chuckle. "That's his mark. Shastro leaves one on all his patients. That seals it."

"What do we do now?" Leo asked.

"That's up to Donna. We can put her in protective custody and let the doctors try to figure out how to reverse all the mental damage he's done to her . . . or we can use this to our advantage." He turned to her and fixed her with a steady gaze. "It won't be easy, and we can't be sure that it'll work, but if it does, you would be instrumental in taking down the man who did this to you."

Donna took a deep breath and looked to Leo. His mouth was set in a grim line but his eyes locked with hers and spoke volumes about his belief in her. She nodded and turned to the Agent. "What do I do?" 

****

Tbc . . .


	10. Chapter 10

****

Part Ten

"She's seen him," Alan Shastro said. He rocked back and forth in his chair, the quiet creak of the springs the only sound in the darkened room. "It won't be long now."

"How can you be so sure it'll work?" The woman on the phone was impatient for results, but Alan held his tongue. She was, after all, his highest paying customer. "I can't risk this getting screwed up."

"Not to worry," Alan assured her. "I stand by my work. Donna Moss was a fighter but that just means that the alternate personality is more deeply ingrained."

"I hope you're right," the woman spat.

He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, regretting once again that he had ever agreed to such a high profile job. "I haven't been wrong yet," he hissed.

"There's a first time for everything," she reminded him. "Don't make this your first mistake."

He ignored the barb and concentrated instead on the money he'd be getting when all was said and done. Visions of a hammock strung between two palm trees on some tropical paradise calmed his nerves, and he replied, "My man is keeping tabs on her and will let me know how often she's in contact with Senator Lyman. If you're right, and he actively pursues rekindling their friendship, he should be seeing quite a bit of her. When the opportunity presents itself -- which I have no doubt it will -- we will commence with the job and you will have your desired results. I will contact you afterward with instructions for my final payment."

"Fine," the woman replied. "I expect to hear from you soon."

When the connection was severed, Alan Shastro smiled and gently placed the receiver in the cradle. "Ah, Theresa," he said, smiling sweetly. "You'll make me so proud -- and rich."  


****

* o *

Leo had stayed with Donna and Erik for as long as he could, but White House business had caught up with him, and he'd had to go. He and the Agent had exchanged business cards, and Leo had made Erik promise to keep him in the loop on everything pertaining to Donna's case.

During Leo's visit, plans had been discussed then discarded, each one considered more dangerous than the last. Still, Donna was adamant about bringing the people who had stolen the years from her to justice.

"We've got time," Erik assured her, after Leo had gone. "In the few other cases we've had turn up that involved Shastro, the victim had been back for months before the programming took effect."

Donna nodded, hoping he was right. "How many other cases have there been?" she asked.

Erik shifted slightly in his seat and ran a hand through his hair. "Five or six that we're aware of."

Donna brightened, feeling strength in numbers. "Can I talk to any of them? Maybe they have some information that can help?"

Again, Erik shifted and the color rose in his cheeks. "Well, that'll be hard to do," he explained. "See, they're all dead."

"Dead?" Her eyes widened, and she forced herself to breathe.

"Yeah." Eric drummed his fingers on the table. "Apparently, the mental programming includes a 'self destruct' suggestion. All of the offenders we've been able to trace to Shastro committed suicide after they carried out what they'd been programmed to do."

"Oh." She licked her lips and smiled weakly. Her support group had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Suddenly, Erik stood and picked up his coat from the back of the kitchen chair. "Look, I've got to get going. I need to talk to one of my colleagues. She's been dealing with Shastro for years now. We really need to get her involved."

Donna nodded, mulling over everything that had been covered that afternoon, then shook her head. "Is that a good idea? I mean, what if I'm being watched?" The idea made her skin crawl, but if she had been forced into some parallel-universe where her life resembled a spy-novel, she figured she had best start thinking that way. "I mean, I told myself to keep looking for answers, but we need to make sure it looks like we're not close to the truth, right?"

Erik seemed to think that way, too. "Good point. I'll see what I can do about keeping this quiet."

She stood and followed him to the front door, trying to think of something to say -- of some way to convey the way she felt about all the help he had given her when he didn't have to. Finally, as he stood on the front stoop, she simply said, "Thanks."

Erik smiled and placed a hand on her arm. "No problem. In the meantime, try to avoid Josh. The less you see of him, the better -- at least until we know what's going on." 

****

* o *

Donna busied herself with straightening up Sam's house, trying to keep her mind on anything but what had been uncovered about her time away. It still seemed far-fetched, but she had nothing to defend an alternate possibility. 

Josh. The simple thought brought her self-resolve crashing all around her, and she had to sit as her knees buckled. What kind of a sick mind would use her to kill Josh? That was akin to asking her to kill a member of her own family. Worse, even.

How was she going to explain this to him? She knew she had to. Leaving him out of the loop wasn't even an option after the way he'd reacted to her return. His business card was sitting on the counter and she found herself staring at it, fighting an urge to call him.

The urge won out and she picked up the phone, carefully dialing his cell phone. He answered after the first ring.

"Greetings, Donnatella."

She laughed. "How did you know it was me?"

"I've got Sam's number programmed into my phone," he explained. "It was either you or him, so I played the odds. I'm glad I was right."

The heat rose in her cheeks as she envisioned him talking to her. His tone of voice called to mind a broad smile with deep dimples -- her favorite expression. "I, uh, needed to call you," she stammered, pushing all inappropriate thoughts of Josh out of her mind. 

Immediately, he was all business, and the Josh in her head lost the smile and put on his serious face. "What do you need?"

"This is going to be hard to say." Donna started to pace around the kitchen, thankful for the cordless phone. "I talked to Agent Walters again today, and we've kind of made a discovery."

"That's great!"

"No so much," she said. "Look, you need to stay away from me."

"Nope." He didn't hesitate.

She wasn't at all surprised at his reaction and had expected as much. "Josh," she warned. 

"Sorry," he replied. "No can do."

"Joshua."

"Donna."

"I'm not kidding."

"Neither am I."

"This is serious!" It was hard to not laugh as he argued with her. She didn't want have to explain to him the reasons *why* she didn't want him around. Just as she was about to plead her case once again, a knock echoed from the foyer. "Hold on, there's someone at the door."

"Take your time," he told her, his voice full of typical Josh smugness. "I'm not going anywhere."

Donna rolled her eyes as she opened the door, then groaned as Josh waved, an impish smile tugging at his lips and his cell phone still up against his ear. 

"See?" he said into the phone, his voice echoing in her ear. "I told you that wasn't an acceptable option. Can I come in?"

With exaggerated movements, Donna pressed the 'off' button on the phone and turned around, walking away from the door and Josh. After a moment, as she replaced the phone on the charger on the kitchen counter, she heard his steps in the foyer and the door closing behind him. By the time she turned to face the doorway, he was standing in it.

"Do you care to explain yourself?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear, no doubt proud of himself for his little stunt.

"Not really." Donna leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. She was delighted to see him, but given that there was a possibility she might try to kill him at any moment, she was trying to force an annoyed façade. "What are you doing here? Don't you have a job?"

Josh wrinkled his nose at her and shrugged his carryall off his shoulder, placing it on one of the kitchen chairs. "One of the perks of being a freshman Senator is the lack of stuff to do when we're not in session," he explained as he unzipped the bag and pulled out a folder, placing it on the tabletop.

"I doubt you could ever have a lack of stuff to do." Donna nodded toward the folder, "What's that?"

"It's a speech I have to give next week about education reform." He moved his carryall from the chair to the floor and whipped the chair around, straddling it and leaning his chin on the backrest. "Are you busy?"

Donna sighed and pulled out another chair, sitting down across from Josh. "Are you serious?" she asked, wondering where this was going.

"I know you're pretty much cooped up here until things get straightened out, and I thought it might do some good for you to do something to keep your mind occupied." He slid the folder across the table and grinned. "You wanna look this over and let me know what kind of idiot I am? It's your specialty."

Grinning in return, Donna picked up the folder and opened it, expecting some sort of memo or a blank sheet of paper. Instead she found several pages, typed, and as she read, realized he was serious. "This is your speech," she said, looking up from the pages.

"Really?" 

"Josh." She closed the folder and placed it on the table. "I'm not your assistant anymore, you know."

"I'm pretty much aware of that," he remarked, the grin still solid on his face.

She shook her head and sighed, giving in, as she was sure he knew she would. "When do you need this back?" Truth be told, she welcomed the diversion, just as he had suggested, and was more pleased about the work than she would ever let on.

"Next Wednesday at the latest. I'm supposed to deliver it on Friday. You game?"

"Yeah, I'll do it." She chuckled. "How sad that I'm doing your work to keep from going stir-crazy. It used to be your work that *made* me stir-crazy." She leaned back in her chair and looked at him -- really looked at him, studying him as most everyone had been studying her over the past few days.

"What?" he asked, sitting up straight. "Is there something in my teeth?"

"You look good," she said quietly. "I didn't get a chance to tell you that this morning."

Without missing a beat, he replied, "You look even better now than you did this morning."

"Josh," she whispered. "Are you okay? I mean, really okay?"

He smiled contritely and nodded. "I'm much better, now, thanks."

There was an intensity in his eyes, and Donna found that she was holding her breath. There had been a time, not so long ago in her mind, when a look like the one Josh was now leveling on her would have turned her knees to jelly and set her insides quivering. Now -- it was almost painful.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, feeling torn between supposedly protecting him from herself and helping him to heal.

"Yeah," he said. "I think we should talk."

****

* o *

"It's like I've fallen down the rabbit hole," she said, leaning her head back into the crook of the overstuffed couch, staring up at the ceiling. Her legs were curled up underneath her, and she rested her hands on her knees while she tried to think of a way to explain to Josh what it felt like to wake up and have two years stolen away. "I don't even know where to begin. It's like I closed my eyes for a moment and the world slipped into a time warp. I'm still the same but everyone else has moved on."

"It wasn't all fun and games on this end either," Josh said, ruefully. 

"I can't even imagine what it was like for you -- for everyone," Donna said, closing her eyes. The anguish she felt when thinking about it was only a fraction of what her friends had felt, of this she was sure.

"I can't complain." Donna narrowed her eyes at Josh while he began to explain. "It's not often that a loved one comes back from the dead. I mean, everyone always wishes that there was some way to turn back time and get that someone back somehow, but we all know, deep down, that it's not a possibility." His eyes had taken on a faraway look, but they quickly focused on her as he added, "You, Donna, are a consummate wish."

Josh had never spoken to her this way before, and she didn't know how to react. On one hand, she was thrilled to have him opening up to her in the way she'd always wished he would. 

On the other hand, he was married. 

She decided to play it light. With a small laugh, she reached over and smacked him gently on the knee. "You sound like one of those sappy movies I like to watch," she chastised. "You'd better watch out, or you'll develop a reputation as an old softie."

He didn't move or change the intensity of his gaze. "I mean it, Donna. I was wrecked after you -- well, it wasn't a good time for any of us, I guess. What I'm trying to say is . . . I guess I just never believed that you were really gone. I dunno. I suppose I thought I'd *feel* it if you were dead. My head kept saying that you were, that I'd scattered your ashes and you were never coming back. Something, though, something right here," he placed a hand over his chest and closed his eyes. "Something in my heart told me to keep believing in you."

"Josh?" It was barely a whisper. She was shocked that he had laid himself bare for her, and now tears were falling from her eyes. "I'm touched."

Smiling, he leaned forward and gently wiped her cheeks with the backs of his fingers. "It's the truth. You've said so yourself. We're in tune with each other."

Donna's head was swimming with questions and concerns, wondering what Josh meant by all the sweet things he was saying. The way he was saying them seemed to indicate that he did, indeed, hold her in higher regard than just a friend. She was torn between letting it all lay between them in confusion and outright asking him what he was talking about. Her fears almost kept her mouth shut.

"What are you trying to say, Josh?" she heard herself asking, as if she were watching it all unfold from afar.

"I don't know," he admitted, shrugging before bringing one hand up to rub his eyes. "I'm just tired of not saying anything at all. There were so many times I wanted to tell you . . . things, but didn't because I was afraid. I don't want to lose the chance again."

Her mouth was still on auto-pilot and before she could stop herself, she said, "Josh, you're married."

He snorted and rolled his eyes then turned serious as he replied, "Amy is the second biggest mistake I've ever made. The first was not being honest with myself about you."

****

Tbc . . .


	11. Chapter 11

****

Part Eleven

"Whoa!" Donna hopped off the couch and began to pace on the opposite side of the room, her heart pounding in her ears. "I think we may need to slow down."

Josh shook his head and shifted on the couch. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked back and forth across the hardwood floor. "I don't want to slow down," he said.

"What about your wife?" she asked. Regardless of what he might possibly feel for her, he was still married, she reminded herself.

"What about her?"

The indifference in his tone startled her and she stopped pacing, her hands firmly on her hips as she leveled the accusation, "You married her, Josh. There had to be something there."

He shrugged. "Yeah, a political advantage. There's no love there. I'm a means to an end for her -- I always was." 

Donna snorted and resumed pacing, muttering, "It took you long enough to figure that out."

Calmly, Josh replied, "I figured it out about ten minutes after you died."

She refused to be shaken. "Why the sudden onslaught of confessed emotions?" she asked, her eyes glued to her feet. "I mean, this is quick."

"I've been thinking of nothing else for two years, Donna." His voice was calm and steady and it scared her. "I want you to know . . ."

"Stop!" This was going too far, too fast, and Donna wanted to put a stop to it. "You may have had two whole years to iron out your feelings, but technically I've only had a few days. You can't come here and dump all this on me."

Josh stood and held his hands out to her, "Then what do you want me to do?"

Donna paused and stared at him for a moment, her thoughts tumbling over one another as she considered all the possible answers to that loaded question. Finally, she settled on, "You need to leave."

"Why?"

She had expected a refusal or at least some petulance. Instead he was calmly asking her a question, which did nothing more than infuriate her, because he had every right to an answer, and she didn't have a good one to give him. "Because," she yelled, "right now I could either kiss you or kill you, and you really don't understand how true that statement is."

He paused, considering her words and started to smirk when they sank in. "Kiss me?"

"Or kill you," she hotly pointed out.

"I'd rather focus on the kissing part," Josh replied, waggling his eyebrows and widening his smile.

"Of course you would!" Donna rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air. Trying to talk to Josh was like talking to a sixteen-year-old with abnormally overactive hormones. She had to try to rein him in. "Would you like to know what I figured out today? Why I want you to leave and never come back?"

He sighed and flopped back onto the couch. "Enlighten me."

It was all or nothing, Donna supposed, and she'd likely get only one chance to catch his attention before he flew off track again. "I was brainwashed, Josh. I was brainwashed and have been programmed to kill you on command." She stood still and watched as a host of expressions lit his face. 

Finally settling on a half smile, he deadpanned, "That's so not funny it's hysterical."

Donna groaned and looked to the ceiling, not at all surprised that he didn't believe her. At least she had his attention. "Do I look like I'm kidding?" she asked, leveling him with a glare. "Why don't you call Leo and ask him. I'm sure he'd be happy to tell you how *not* kidding I am."

He shook his head, still smiling at what he must have thought was a joke. "You couldn't hurt a fly, Donna Moss, and you expect me to believe that someone has screwed with your brain enough to get you to kill?"

"Not just kill, Josh. Kill *you*." Her voice carried the magnitude of a nuclear explosion as she tried to convey the importance and seriousness of the situation.

His smile faded as he stared at her. "That's absurd," he finally said, but without conviction.

"I wish it was," she sighed, crossing the room to sit beside him.

"You're serious." 

"Yeah."

"You're really, really serious."

"Yes, Joshua, I am."

"Oh, my God."

"My sentiments, exactly." She turned her head and looked at him. He was struck dumb, staring at the floor, his hands clasped before him as his mind finally wrapped around the possibility. There was nothing she wanted to do more right then than wrap her arms around him and tell him it was, in fact, all a really sick joke. Instead, she held still and allowed him the time he needed to come to terms with it all. She almost laughed when she realized that she'd accepted it faster than he seemed to be able to do.

"Why?" he finally asked, voicing the question she'd been asking herself since early that morning.

"That seems to be the question of the hour. How many enemies do you have, Josh?" she softly asked. "How many people out there hate you enough to want you dead?"

"Well, yeah, sure," he replied with a cocky air. "But enough to stage something this elaborate? I'm sure it's cheaper and less trouble to just shoot me in the street than to try to brainwash you."

She blanched at the thought of Josh being shot in the street and quickly said, "Don't talk like that."

"Like what?" he asked with a chuckle. "You're the one who's gonna to pop a cap in my ass!"

He was making light of the situation again, and it was beginning to piss her off. "Do you have to be so crude?" she hissed, scooting across the couch cushion and settling again a little further from him. 

"Crude times call for crude measures." The retort, meant to be funny, fell flat, and he sighed before seriously asking, "What's the F.B.I. doing about this?"

Donna cringed. She'd been dreading this particular question, mostly because they weren't doing much of anything at the time, and when they did do something, the plan was to use her as bait. "We're working on that," she cryptically replied.

"You mean you don't have a plan? You could snap right now and beat me to death with the telephone?" He grinned, but she could see the uneasiness in his eyes. She knew it was hard for him to think that she would be able to hurt him -- just as she couldn't believe it herself.

"Poetic justice," she muttered, thinking about all the times that she'd considered bludgeoning him with his office phone.

"No kidding," he remarked, no doubt thinking the same thing.

Donna opened her mouth to reply, then stopped as the thought formed. It made perfect sense. "No, really," she said, reaching out and grabbing his arm. "It *is* poetic justice. Whoever planned this obviously wanted me to be the one to do it. I mean, everyone that knows me knows I would never do anything to purposely hurt you and how I stayed with you and took care of you when you were recovering. It's poetic justice. Who knows you well enough and would go through *that* kind of trouble?" She took a breath and smiled, looking for some sort of reaction from Josh.

He stared at her for a moment then nodded. "Amy," he said, as if it were the most natural and logical conclusion for their dilemma. 

"What?" She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Did you say Amy?" She'd finally pushed him around the bend.

Josh was deep in thought now, the wheels of his mind cranking away, justifying to himself how his wife had masterminded the past twenty-eight months. 

"She wouldn't . . ." Donna started to argue but was cut off when Josh's head whipped around.

"Have you met my wife?" he asked with a note of bitterness in his voice. "There's also that little thing called the 17th Amendment to the Constitution. Add to that her long-standing friendship with the governor of Connecticut, which I always found a little odd, and she could conceivably be given my Senate seat until my term is up." He nodded as the mental pieces all fell into place and added, "To some people, power is like crack, you know. Once you've had a taste, you'll do anything to get more." 

Donna had seen this look before and she knew he had made up his mind. "Now you're talking crazy talk," she lightly teased, although she knew there wasn't any way she would be able to talk him down from his delusion.

"You don't think it's possible?" he asked, nodding as if to beseech her to explore the possibility.  


She paused and let her tortured mind follow the same twisted path that Josh's had. She had to admit that his idea had merit, as way out and insane as it was, but she held a special bias where Amy Gardner-Lyman was concerned. "I didn't say that," she conceded. "I just said . . ." she paused as a thought popped into her mind. Scrunching her nose, she tilted her head to the side and asked, "Why wouldn't she just run on her own? Wouldn't that be easier?"

"Revenge is Amy's middle name. I snubbed her the night you died -- and she's always had a thing against you. She never does anything unless there's a personal gain for her."

Donna's eyes opened at that. "She had something against me?"

Josh wasn't paying attention and talked right over her, "It makes a sick kind of sense, doesn't it?"

"I mean, I never liked her, but . . ." She shook off the thought and refocused on the important parts of their conversation. Donna studied Josh for a moment and decided to humor him -- for the time being. If he wanted to believe that Amy -- his wife -- wanted him dead, then who was she to stop him? "I suppose it makes a little sense in an alternate reality, but how can we prove it?"

Josh smiled and winked at her, causing her blood to run cold. "How fast can your F.B.I. friend get here? I have an idea."

"And why does that scare the hell out of me?" she commented as she reached for the phone.

****

Tbc . . .


	12. Chapter 12

****

Part Twelve

Josh sat still and worked the problem through in his mind, trying to come up with another plausible explanation for Donna's abduction. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't arrive at an alternate scenario. Donna was humoring him when she backed down and agreed that Amy was a likely suspect, he could tell by her placating tone of voice -- the dripping sarcasm was a tip-off, too, but he was certain he was right. He'd just have to prove it to her.

She was currently in the kitchen, arranging for a meeting with Toby's F.B.I. friend. Josh had a plan, one that would hopefully free Donna from the mystery surrounding her past two years. His only hurdle would be convincing the feds -- and Donna -- that it was their best course of action.

"Are you okay?"

Josh jumped, startled by the intrusion into his thoughts, but quickly recovered. "I'm fine," he assured her. "Just thinking."

Donna smiled and sat next to him on the couch, leaning into him and nudging him with her shoulder. "Deep thoughts?"

Chuckling, he nudged her back. "Of course!" When she rolled her eyes, he decided not to pursue the banter and instead asked about her phone call.

"It's all set," she explained. "I was talking to Agent Walters and telling him about your theory when C.J. rang though on the other line. Between the two of them, we've set up a meeting tonight at C.J. and Toby's house."

"Are you going to be able to do that?" Josh asked. "What if you're being watched?"

"I thought of that, and that's why we're meeting over at C.J.'s." Donna leaned back and pulled her legs up onto the couch, curling them underneath. "The agents will be there already when we arrive. They're being car-pooled over by Toby."

"Agents?" Josh turned to question Donna about her plural use and saw her smile.

"Agents, as in more than one." She shook her head and laughed. "It seems Leo isn't all that good at keeping secrets from the President. When he found out about me, he insisted that Special Agent Mike Casper get involved. Mike talked to Toby and got in touch with Agent Walters who had already talked to another Agent who's supposed to be an expert on Alan Shastro." She took a deep breath and shrugged. "Hence, the plural."

"The more the merrier," Josh agreed. "As long as they can get the job done." He stood and stretched, working out the kinks in his shoulders with wide sweeping circles of his arms. "What time are we supposed to meet up with everyone?"

"Later tonight," Donna replied from behind. 

Josh turned and regarded Donna, sitting on the couch with her legs curled up. He was struck at once by her beauty and strength. A lesser person would have been in pieces going though what she was going through. Instead, she was resolved to fixing the problem and getting on with her life. He'd never loved her more, but it was taking its toll on her.

"You look tired," he commented, taking a step toward her.

She waved his assessment away and shook her head. "Nah. I'm fine."

"You need to take a nap," he concluded. "Let me take care of you for once." He grinned when her eyes softened.

"Maybe I will take a nap. You can get out of here for a while -- if you have something else to do, that is."

"I don't have anything to do that can't wait. Besides," he smirked, "I really don't want to go home right now. Can I stay here? I could watch TV and work on my speech while you nap."

Her eyes brightened with the suggestion, and she nodded. "That sounds good." She stood and pointed down the hallway. "I'll be in the guest room. Can you wake me around five?"

"Sure." His heart tugged as she turned and walked away. For a few minutes, he just stood, unmoving, staring down the hall where she'd gone, wondering what to do about the strong urge he felt to follow her. 'Don't act on it,' he thought, tearing himself away from the spot to which he'd been rooted. 'Get yourself together.'

With that admonishment, Josh settled onto the couch and flipped on the television, immersing himself in the mindlessness of the Weather Channel, his speech forgotten.

****

* o *

"Theresa."

Donna turned her attention away from the television and looked over her shoulder. The room had been darkened, and the stream of light coming in through the now-opened door caused her to squint until her eyes adjusted.

Alan walked in, a videotape in his hand. "I've got something else for you to watch," he said, and she nodded.

Donna particularly hated this part of the program. She had been able to keep up with the physical training without much trouble, something that honestly pleased her to no end, but the mental conditioning was altogether different. 

It was becoming harder and harder to resist the suggestions, and she was afraid that Alan, or one of his henchmen, would figure out that she wasn't the 'Theresa' they thought they were creating. She was still Donna Moss, trying hard to figure out why she was being used and trained for such violent acts. Most of all, she wanted to find out who was really behind the entire situation.

She'd heard Alan on the phone, talking to someone about her progress. In those bits of conversations, it had become clear that hers wasn't some random abduction. She had been taken for a purpose, and it was clear to Donna that the person Alan updated on a regular basis had masterminded the whole affair.

Finding that out, and getting away, were the things that kept her mind strong enough to fight the drugs they gave her every night. Those and the overwhelming desire to see her friends and family again.

Alan ejected the tape Donna had been watching and placed the new tape in the VCR. He hesitated before pressing 'play' and turned around, carefully placing his hands in his pockets and leaning back against the entertainment center. "You've been asking me why you've been training so hard," he explained. "I've told you that you'd find out in time. You've done an exceptional job, and we're very proud of you, Theresa, and we're ready to show you your target."

Cringing inside but displaying overt joy, Donna beamed and nodded, ready to see whom she had been trained to kill. She knew that's what they had been training her to do -- that was the easy part. No one trained in hand-to-hand, focusing on offense rather than defense, in addition to firearm training and the bevy of other weapons she had used over the past several months, without the express purpose of becoming an assassin.

As Alan stepped away from the television, his smile turned her stomach. He picked up the remote and started the tape. "This is your target. Play close attention to the security video clips. They will help." With that, he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him and plunging the room into darkness once more.

The static cleared on the set, drawing Donna's attention to the pictures. The bile rose in her throat when she realized what she was seeing, and she pressed her fist to her mouth to keep from screaming.

Josh.

Josh on Capitol Beat. Josh on Meet the Press. Josh in news conferences. Josh at photo ops. Then, a gray, grainy film of a crowd outside at night which kept looping over and over again. It took Donna a moment to put the pieces together, but when she did it horrified her.

The crowd looked like any normal crowd at the beginning of the loop, milling about, standing behind a barrier of some sort while reaching out for some people walking toward cars on the other side of the barrier. Then, something happened -- there was no sound on this tape, only video -- and the crowd began to scatter in terror. It was then that the camera froze and the picture zoomed in, obviously an edit from Alan's techo-gurus, to show Josh.

Tears poured down her cheeks and her chest tightened. What she was seeing, what had been frozen and blown up for her to study, was the exact moment that the bullet had ripped through Josh's chest. It wasn't the gore of the wound that sickened her -- it was the look of terror and shock on his face that broke her heart.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to use her new training to get out of this hell she'd been thrust in to. Instead, she silently watched the tape loop and play once again, swallowing her tears and anger but feeling her resolve weaken with each passing second.

****

* o * 

The screams woke Josh from a deep sleep, and he leapt from the couch, nearly tripping over his own feet as he sprinted down the hall to Donna's room. He threw open the door and froze.

Donna continued to scream, sitting up in bed and staring straight ahead but apparently seeing nothing. Her hands clenched the pillow, which looked near to the point of shredding. It occurred to him, in the fraction of a second he allowed for thought, that this is what she must have gone through with him when she was helping him through his recovery.

He ran to the bed and grabbed her hands, pulling the pillow from her vise-like grip. "Donna!" He shook her lightly, trying to break through the fog of the nightmare and pull her into reality. "Donna, wake up!"

She began to struggle, wrestling to remove her hands from his grasp, and he realized she was strong -- much stronger than he remembered. He released her hands and grabbed her shoulders, giving them a less-than-gentle shake in one more attempt to break her from her terror.

"Donna! Wake up!"

Her screams stopped and her eyes seemed to regain their focus, staring first at the wall, then turning to him. "Josh?" she whispered, raising her trembling hands to his face.

"I'm here," he said as she touched his cheeks. "I'm not going anywhere." He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her as she collapsed against him, the sobs wracking her body.

He held her and rocked her, rubbing his hands on her back and arms as she cried it out, whispering words of comfort. He had known in his heart that she was acting stronger than she really was, and this was all the confirmation he needed. She was an emotional wreck.

"It'll be okay," he said when her sobs subsided and her breathing began to return to normal. She sniffled, and he leaned back, taking her chin in his hand. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"No," she quickly said. "Not right now."

He nodded, recalling how he had felt after many of his nightmares. He hadn't wanted to talk about them either, simply because he knew how they would have upset her. Josh assumed that she was operating on the same reasoning. "Whenever you're ready," he told her.

She smiled and wiped her cheeks, then looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. As if flipping a switch, she became all business. "It's getting late. I'd better get cleaned up."

Josh leaned back as Donna stood and began puttering around the room, amazed at her resiliency. "Donna," he said and she paused and turned. "If anyone can beat this, you can."

She smiled and his heart swelled. "You really can be sweet sometimes," she said with a wink.

"Yeah, well, don't let that get out, okay?" Josh shifted on the bed and returned her wink with a smirk.

"Your secret is safe with me," she promised, crossing her heart with her finger. "Now get out so I can change."

Josh sighed and stood, snapping his fingers in an 'aww-shucks' motion. "I just can't win, can I?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the missile and ducked just in time. The balled up socks bounced off the door and ricocheted back, hitting him in the shoulder. He laughed and quickly stepped out, closing the door before the next volley hit with a thud.

****

Tbc . . .


	13. Chapter 13

****

Part Thirteen

When they'd married, C.J. and Toby had decided to hold off on any other big decisions, such as buying a home. They had known their time in the White House would be coming to a close in a few years and the uncertainty of life after that -- well, it was just safer to stay put. A flip of a coin had Toby moving in to C.J.'s place days before the ceremony.

As she drove to their home after a particularly stressful day with the press corps, C.J. thought back on the moment that had profoundly changed her life.

It had happened on the day of Donna's memorial service. The White House had practically shut down for the day -- Donna had been well loved and respected by most of the staff, from the President on down to the Mess-cook. C.J. had returned to the pressroom after the service to make some brief comments, touching on the service and updating the press on the Fire Marshal's ruling and the police report -- that it had been nothing more than a horrible, freak accident. Soon after, she had closed herself up in her office with the lights off. 

It was there that Toby had found her, alone, in the dark, crying her heart out. Without question, he had closed the door behind him and quietly held her. She had confessed her feelings of guilt -- first over not insisting that Donna stay with her that fateful night rather than spend it alone and second over calling Josh and sending him over to watch Donna die.

Toby had comforted her, disagreed with her self-flagellation and, eventually, took her home. There had been times in the past when they had found solace in each other, but that night had been different. It was as if Donna's death had signaled a change in each of them -- an awakening to the fact that life is short and will pass you by if you let it.

Three months later, they had been engaged. Nine months after that, C.J. was a step-mom to Huck and Molly. Their lives were complicated but fulfilling, and she felt that she was finally happy. When Donna returned from the dead, her life took another strange turn, but as Toby often said, she could roll with the punches, and she was determined to follow this thing through to the end. 

If anything, helping Donna could finally help her be rid of the nagging guilt that still lingered in her mind. 

"If only it could be that easy," she mused as she pulled in front of her apartment building and stepped out of her car. Her dark thoughts persisted all the way up the walk and up to her front door.

Things were in full swing when C.J. walked into the room. Everyone was seated around the table except for Josh, who was standing behind Donna with his hands on her shoulders. Three pizza boxes were spread over the table, and more than a few empty beer bottles accompanied them.

"I see Toby cooked," she remarked, draping her coat over the back of an armchair while announcing her presence to the room. Donna's smile brightened when she caught C.J.'s eye, and she smiled in return, even though her heart was heavy with trepidation. Contrary to all appearances, this was no party. This was a pow-wow, a war-room meeting, and a means to capture a wanted criminal. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that, no matter how hard she tried, there just wasn't a good way to spin this.

With a sigh, C.J. joined her friends and the three F.B.I. agents at the table and reached for an unopened beer. "Okay," she said. "Let's get started."

****

* o *

The room was silent while Donna, at Agent Walters' insistence, recounted her tale and brought everyone up to speed with the new developments. When she added the details of the memory-dream she'd had just that afternoon, C.J. noted that Josh's grip on Donna's shoulders tightened. It certainly seemed as if that detail was new to him, as well.

"So," Donna concluded. "That's where we are. To sum up, I'm a tool for evil, and I must be stopped. Frighteningly enough, Josh says he has a plan."

Toby grumbled and C.J. released a good-natured chuckle. "Josh?" she gasped. "Are you serious? Shouldn't you let the professionals deal with this?"

With a surprisingly calm voice, Josh replied, "It is my life that's being threatened, isn't it?"

C.J. raised her hands in surrender. "By all means, then . . ."

"Thank you." Josh squeezed Donna's shoulders once more then released her and began to pace. "It's obvious that we all want to get whoever did this to Donna -- even those of us that don't have a personal stake in this. I think we have enough information here to beat them at their own game. It's not enough to just take down this Shastro guy; we also need to find out who put him up to it. I have my own theories."

"Do tell," C.J. snorted, taking another swig from her bottle. 'This ought to be good,' she thought, glancing apologetically at Donna. 

Josh continued, either not hearing or ignoring C.J. "I know this may sound crazy but given present circumstances, I think crazy is pretty much par for the course. I personally think Amy's behind all of this."

"Your wife?" Toby spoke up, voicing the disbelief everyone else was feeling.

Josh stopped pacing and looked at each person ringing the table, pausing briefly on Donna before replying to Toby. "That's the one," he said.

C.J. placed her beer on the table and had to force her mouth closed. She looked at Toby, who shrugged when their eyes met, then turned her surprised stare back on the former Deputy Chief of Staff. "Josh?"

"He's serious about this, C.J.," Donna said with a tired sigh. Apparently she and Josh had already talked this through, and she hadn't been able to convince him of how insane his accusations sounded, either. C.J. was about to launch into a list of reasons why Josh should be committed when the female Agent spoke up.

Agent Presutti cleared her throat and asked Josh, "What do you have in mind?"

He smiled, pleased that it seemed someone was taking him seriously. Without preamble he announced, "Donna should kill me," with as much emotion as if he were asking for a piece of pie.

Donna choked on her beer and had to cover her mouth and concentrate on breathing and swallowing. Finally, she broke the stunned silence with a strangled, "What?"

Josh nodded, confirming to Donna that he had, in fact, really said what she thought he said. "Let them think you're still under their control," he explained. "Then kill me - except not really. You said that there's some kind of trigger word that's supposed to kick-start this other personality. There's a chance you'll be contacted over the phone, right? I mean, with all the visitors you've been getting, they'd be nuts to try to see you in person." He knelt down next to her and took one of her hands in his. "We get a tap on Sam's phone and trace the call, then put a tap on that line. You act all psychotic and murderous and kill me. Then, when the deed is done, there's another chance that Shastro will contact Amy to let her know it's done."

C.J. shook her head, still unable to wrap her mind around the insanity of Josh's suggestion. "You're taking an awful lot of chances there," she pointed out.

Josh tore his eyes away from Donna's and fixed a stare on C.J. "Do you have a better idea?" he asked.

Agent Casper, an old friend of both Josh and Donna, played devil's advocate -- much to C.J.'s relief. "What if Donna's not strong enough? I mean, this is all on the assumption that she's been able to suppress the mind control. What if, in the end, she can't?" With a glance to Donna, he added, "Sorry, Donna," and she smiled, shaking her head as if to tell him 'no hard feelings.'

"She will be. She is," Josh asserted. At that point, C.J. realized that if Josh's belief in Donna alone could make this insane plan work, then it would work.

Donna, however, still looked uneasy. "Josh, Leo and I already tossed this plan this afternoon when we were talking with Agent Walters. It's too dangerous. There are too many variables for it to be foolproof."

"Again, I ask," he rose to his feet and, once more, addressed the room, "do any of you have a better idea?"

"How about exile in Siberia?" Donna muttered.

"Funny girl," he replied, readying for a follow up. He snapped his mouth shut when Donna jumped in.

"I'm serious," she shouted. "What if it doesn't work?" Looking down at her hands, wrapped around her beer bottle, picking at the damp label, she added softly, "I couldn't live with myself if I hurt you."

Josh shook his head and stated, "It's not going to come to that."

"I think we should do it." The room froze and all eyes turned to Toby. He looked up and regarded each face staring at him, some in shock, one in relief, then explained himself. "We can't let this guy get away with this. If we have a chance to catch him and make sure he can't ever do this again, we have an obligation to do just that. He stole two years from Donna. Two whole years. She deserves retribution for that."

C.J. broke the ensuing silence. "I thought you said the Jewish faith didn't believe in revenge."

"Donna's Protestant," Josh and Toby answered in unison. Josh smiled while Toby shot him a look of annoyance.

Donna raised her hand and waved, "And she's still in the room."

Agent Presutti nodded, mulling over Josh's idea. "It's doable," she finally said. "I think we should go with it."

"But when?" Agent Casper asked. C.J. could tell he still wasn't sold on the idea. "It could be days, weeks, even months before something happens."

"I don't think so," Donna interjected. "Bits and pieces are still coming back to me, and one thing I recall was Alan's irritation with someone. Someone who he felt was rushing him. I think it'll happen as soon as possible." The idea seemed to unsettle her further -- knowing that whatever they were going to plan had to be put together quickly.

Agent Walters nodded then turned to his colleague, "Allyson, you're the expert on Shastro. What's his M.O?"

The room hushed as Agent Allyson Presutti spoke. "It will be in public. He always stages these things to happen where there are witnesses. That way there can be no question about what happened, at least in the witnesses' eyes. Josh, are you planning any public appearances?"

Donna gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, her wide eyes meeting Josh's in instant recognition. "Oh, God, your speech on Friday."

****

* o *

As Donna took a moment to review the events of the evening, she wondered briefly how everyone had been able to so quickly believe that she could be kidnapped and brainwashed. She supposed, in retrospect, that having the F.B.I. sitting in on the meeting added a small degree of credibility to the story, but she still had to wonder -- would she have been so quick to believe had it been someone else in her place?

Even though she knew the truth, as much as had been revealed to her in bits and pieces, it was still a stretch for her to accept everything as fact. Maybe a part of her was still clinging to the hope that it was just a crazy idea and she . . . and Josh . . . would be fine. Or, better yet, maybe it was all a bad dream?

She laid her head on her pillow and sighed deeply. The plan was in place, the F.B.I. taking charge of the details. They were all operating on the assumption that she would be contacted sometime within the next week and that she would be able to resist the intense mental programming she was supposed to have endured.

For Josh's sake, she hoped they were all correct.

In order to maintain the illusion that they weren't aware of what was going to happen, Donna was given strict instructions, one of which was to limit her 'exposure' to Josh. Of all the instructions she had been given, that would be the hardest to follow. She was weak, although she felt she was putting on a convincing air of strength, and she was scared. The more that she remembered about her time away, the more she was afraid of what she had become.

Josh knew what she was going through and was able to comfort her and lend her strength. Now, when she needed him the most, she was a threat to him and had to stay away.

"Life is full of little ironies," she said, her voice echoing in the dark. Josh had promised to call Sam and get him home as soon as possible, and while it would be nice to have someone around that was on her side and understood, it wouldn't be the same.

She tossed and turned, fluffing the pillow then kicking off the sheets. Unable to get comfortable, she gave up and headed for the couch. She had settled in and flipped on the television when the phone rang.

Smiling, Donna hopped up and reached for the phone. At this hour of the night, there was only one person it could be, and she thought it karmic that he must have known she was having trouble sleeping.

"Hi stranger," she said when she placed the phone to her ear. Instead of a snappy comeback from Josh, however, she was assaulted by the sound of squeaks and clicks, not unlike that of a fax machine. Instead of pulling the phone away from her ear in aggravation, she froze and listened intently.

"Theresa," a male voice said as the cacophony ceased. "It's time."

She smiled and nodded. "I understand," she replied. "You know they're expecting this, don't you? It's rather amusing, if you think about it."

The man chuckled. "That's why we planned for that contingency. Are you ready?"

"I'll need supplies," she purred, raising a hand to her mouth and biting down thoughtfully on her thumbnail. 

"It will all be taken care of," the man assured her. "Do you know when?"

"Friday," she replied. "It's all planned. Or so they think."

"It makes the victory all the sweeter," he replied.

As the connection severed, she narrowed her eyes and placed the phone on the charger. With a dark smile, she slowly walked back to her bedroom and climbed into bed, and without a second thought, fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

****

Tbc . . .


	14. Chapter 14

****

Part Fourteen

Early Monday morning, Josh stood in Leo's office with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. It had been months since he'd last seen or spoken with President Bartlet and months before that since he'd last been in the White House. When he'd arrived at his office that morning, however, there was a summons waiting for him.

He assumed it had something to do with Donna and not any actual business, since he was still trying to reestablish himself as a political player. His resignation and subsequent sabbatical after Donna's death had earned him the unfair labels of emotional and damaged, and he was seldom confronted with anything of importance, although that was slowly beginning to turn around. 

He had the idea that there was a small degree of guilt involved with his colleagues, especially those had had known him and dealt with him before. In the eyes of his friends and foes alike, however, a damaged Josh Lyman was still a damn good politician and would, eventually, be a force to be reckoned with yet again. So they were slowly testing him -- feeling him out -- seeing what they could get away with and how far they could push him. It was disconcerting and, in his eyes, a waste of time.

Still, walking the halls from the front lobby to Leo's office had felt like coming home, even with the escort. He was looking forward to the chance to talk to someone he considered an old friend -- despite the fact that old friend was the most powerful man in the free world.

The muffled sounds of people milling about drifted through the connecting doors, alerting Josh that the meeting in the Oval Office was breaking up. A moment later, the doors opened and Leo nodded, gesturing for Josh to enter.

"Josh!" Jed Bartlet smiled warmly and rounded his desk, coming toward his ex-employee with outstretched hands. Josh took the offered hand and vigorously returned his hearty handshake. "So good to see you, son. Sit down." Jed led Josh to the ring of couches that sat in the center of the room and waited while Josh made himself comfortable.

"Thank you, Sir," he said. "It's been too long."

Jed beamed and nodded. "That it has. Since your campaign, I believe." He sat in the wing chair, close to Josh, while Leo selected a spot on the opposite couch.

"Thank you again for your endorsement," Josh added. He hadn't expected that the President would let him campaign without putting in a good word for him, but had been pleasantly surprised when he'd offered to travel to Connecticut to support him with speeches and rallies. "Really, Sir, you went over and above."

Jed waved Josh's gratitude away with his hand. "It was the least I could do after all you did for me."

Feeling uncharacteristically humbled, Josh lowered his head to hide the flush he felt rising in his cheeks. "Well, in any case, thank you."

The President was never one to beat around the bush, so it came as no surprise when his next comment was, "It's sure nice to have Donna back from the dead, isn't it?"

"It is, Sir," Josh sighed, looking from Jed to Leo and back again. He knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn't care. His grin seemed to be mirrored on the two older gentlemen.

Jed's tone softened, and he placed a hand on Josh's knee. "Leo told me about what she went though," he said. "Is she going to be all right?"

"We think so," he replied. "It's going to be a trying week, but once we nail the guy who did this to her and the person who put him up to it -- well, then she can take some time to heal and get her life back."

Jed nodded while Josh spoke, and when he was done, pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. "Leo also told me who you think is behind Donna's predicament. You don't think you're maybe projecting a little bit?"

Josh laughed and shook his head. "Projecting? No, Sir. I know my relationship with Amy was always rocky when it was at its best, but I'm not blaming this on her just because it's convenient. I know everyone else thinks I'm nuts -- I'm used to that. When all is said and done, Sir, we'll see who's right and who's wrong."

"You love her, don't you?" Jed leaned forward and clasped his hands together, his eyes full of thoughtful contemplation.

"Amy?" Josh shrugged. "I used to think so."

Jed smiled wryly and shook his head. "I meant Donna, actually."

"Donna?" Josh realized after he spoke that his voice was merely a squeak. He cleared his throat and looked down at the floor, collecting his thoughts before his emotions took over. "I care for her quite a bit, if that's what you mean."

"That's not exactly what I meant, but it will do." The President stood, quickly followed by both Leo and Josh. "I just wanted to see you, Josh, see how you're doing. I've heard about this crazy plan of yours. If it were anyone else I'd be surprised -- but it's you, and I'm not." He turned and placed a hand on Josh's shoulder. "Just be careful. Abbey asked for me to extend an invitation to dinner to you and Donna when this is all done. You'll come?"

"I will, Sir," Josh promised, wondering why he suddenly felt choked-up. 

"I also want to give you a piece of advice before I let you go," the President continued. "That muscle in your chest? There are times you need to follow it instead of your head. Follow your heart, Josh. Sometimes it just knows better."

Josh smiled and nodded, not trusting his voice at that moment. He had always looked up to the President, as he did Leo, but to have him give such fatherly-advice, at a time like this, was almost more than he could handle. Seemingly, Jed knew this and just smiled and nodded in return before Josh turned and walked out of the room.

****

* o *

Sam arrived at Reagan National just before the lunch rush and quickly made his way across the city to his townhouse. Josh had called over the weekend, explaining everything that had happened with Donna and the resultant plan to catch her abductor. He'd also given him the rundown on her current state of mind and asked him to please come to D.C. so she wouldn't have to be alone.

Loose ends were tied up or postponed, and Sam was on the next available flight with barely a second thought. The House was going to be reconvening the following week in any case, so his trip back to D.C. was merely pushed up by a couple of days. Not that he was complaining. Once Josh fully explained his hare-brained scheme, wild horses couldn't have kept Sam away.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected upon his arrival, but it wasn't what he found. He could hear the thumping bass of the music from the street, and with each step up the landing to his front door, his heart sunk a little further. The noise was most definitely coming from *his* townhouse, and Congressman or not, the neighbors were likely to complain.

"Donna?" He shouted over the din as his opened the door, the music now blaring in all its hip-hop glory. "Donna, are you here?" Sam closed the door behind him and carefully walked through the foyer, coming to a halt at the doorway to the living room. His mouth dropped open at the sight.

Donna was kick boxing in his living room wearing nothing more than a mostly damp, sleeveless T-shirt and a cut-off pair of jogging pants. Her wet hair was clinging to her back when it wasn't being whipped around in the frenzy of her punches and kicks. The music blared, and she moved in time with the beat, her grunts and shouts sounding almost primitive. Sam was captivated by the spectacle and stared, open-mouthed, watching her until she whipped around and stopped with a jump.

"Sam!" She placed a hand over her heart and leaned over, taking deep heaving breaths. Sam continued to stare, fully aware that she was not wearing anything under the damp T-shirt and knowing that Josh would happily kick his butt from there to next week for even noticing. She righted herself and ran her hands though the strands of hair that had come free from the loose ponytail and smiled tightly. "I wasn't expecting you."

Still shouting to be heard over the music, Sam explained, "I was able to get here quicker that I'd thought."

"Ah!" She turned and hopped over to the stereo, turning the volume down and picking up a towel she'd draped over the arm of the couch. "You didn't have to do that," she replied at a normal volume, wiping the sweat from her face and arms before blotting her exposed chest and neck. "I'm keeping busy."

Still in awe over Donna's aerobic activities, Sam snapped his mouth shut and forced a smile. "I can -- when -- where did you learn how to do that?"

Laughing lightly, she brushed past him and walked down the hall to the guest room. "I suppose it's something I picked up while I was away," she said over her shoulder. "Little bits and pieces have been coming back to me. Like, did you know there are several pressure points on the human body that, when direct blunt pressure is applied, can render a person unconscious or worse?" She turned at the door and smiled again, flipping her still-dark locks over her shoulder. "Fascinating, isn't it?"

"Um, sure?" Sam was rooted to the spot. He wasn't sure if Donna was playing with him or not. It happened often, someone taking advantage of his gullibility, only to have a good chuckle at his expense. Over the years, he'd learned to recognize most of the zingers before he'd been had -- but this was different.

She winked and pulled the towel seductively from around her shoulders. "I'm going to take a shower, if you don't mind." Then she stepped into her room and closed the door behind her.

Sam shook his head and blinked a couple of times. What the hell had just happened?

****

* o *

Theresa slowly pulled open the drawer of the bedside table, running her fingers lightly over the semi-automatic handgun now resting there. Her benefactor, right under the unsuspecting eyes of her newly appointed F.B.I. guardians, had delivered it in the Sunday paper. All interested parties were still blissfully unaware that she was no longer the Donna they knew and were so concerned about. Her transformation had occurred under the radar, and she had been trained to be discreet.

Sam had walked in on her, though, and had seen more than he should have. The cold steel felt like silk under her fingertips, and she toyed with the idea of putting an immediate end to that particular problem. Common sense won out, and she slid the drawer shut again, first covering her weapon with some loose papers. Sam was expected. His disappearance would set off alarms all over the District, which was something she couldn't afford. Not when she was so close to her goal. 

Sighing, Teresa picked out some clothes and headed for the shower while coming up with a plan for damage control. 

****

* o *

Sam heard the shower turn on and decided he should do something other than stand in the foyer. The music was still softly thumping out of the speakers, so he crossed the room and shut the stereo off completely. As his mind processed what he'd just seen, he realized that he'd likely never again be able to step foot in his living room without replaying the scene over and over in his mind. 

"Yeah," he murmured. "That's gonna be stuck there for a while." He briefly considered calling Josh and sharing what he'd just seen but discarded the notion as soon as it occurred. Donna was just being Donna. There was nothing sinister about exercise and Josh *had* told Sam that she was starting to go a little stir crazy from being cooped up. It made perfect sense for her to pick up something highly active to do to keep herself busy.

The shower turned off, alerting Sam to the fact that he'd been standing in the living room for quite some time. He snapped into action, hurrying to the kitchen so to appear as if he'd been relaxing with a drink while she'd been showering -- instead of reviewing her moderately erotic activities while in a catatonic stupor.

A few moments later, Donna entered the kitchen, her hair wound up in a towel. With a shy smile, she sat next to Sam. "I apologize for my little exhibition," she said, nodding slightly toward the living room. "If I'd known when you were coming, I would have been a little more -- um -- dressed, I suppose."

"Don't worry about it," he said with a cautious smile. "I probably should have called first, anyway."

"It's just," she continued. "I'm getting a little wound up, waiting here for something to happen, you know? It's wearing on me. I've never been an overly physical person, and all of a sudden I seem to be able to do things with my body that I've never been able to do before. It's like I've awakened from this dream where I was an amazing super agent, but I still remember all the moves. Does that make sense?" When Sam nodded, she added, "And have you seen the muscles in my arms?"

Sam glanced at her biceps as she pulled up the sleeve of her cotton shirt. With a slight flex, he could see every fiber and sinew of a perfectly cut upper arm. He blinked and let out a low whistle. "Wow! Your arms look better than most of the ones I see at the gym."

"I know!" she happily exclaimed, letting the sleeve fall back in to place. "And who wouldn't want to maintain something like that, right?"

Sam took another good look at his houseguest and had to admit she looked damn good. She'd looked good before, not that he'd ever admit to a certain Connecticut Senator that he'd given her a passing glance, but now she looked strong and toned. Her enthusiasm, however, was lacking something -- something he couldn't quite put his finger on. With a smile and a nod, he picked up his drink and took a swallow, wondering what it was about Donna that had his senses on edge.

****

Tbc . . .


	15. Chapter 15

****

Part Fifteen

"Good morning, J."

Josh raised an arm to his eyes, blocking out the harsh light that suddenly filtered into the room. He lay quietly for a moment; allowing his eyes to become acclimated and also letting his mind play catch up. 

"Good morning, Amy," he finally replied, sitting up and scrubbing his hands over his face. He blinked twice then focused on his wife, who was standing across the room with her hand on the pull string for the venetian blinds. "What are you doing here?"

"Some would say I live here, don't you think?" She walked slowly from the window to the edge of the king-sized bed, letting the draw-string run through her hand until it reached it's end and fell back in to place with a light clack.

"I just . . . " he paused, the proper ending to that sentence not yet formed. He wanted to say, 'I just thought you'd want to stay out of town until your dirty deed had been done,' but that seemed a little brusque, even for him. "I just wasn't expecting you until next week," he finally said, smiling weakly.

She smiled back, her lips thin and her eyes somewhat cold. "I wanted to be here for your speech on Friday," she explained. "Although I still don't know why you bother with the smaller issues. You have the potential to really make a difference with the larger ones."

Josh sighed and flopped back onto his pillow. She'd been in the house for no more than five minutes, and already she was telling him how to be a better politician. "You know I have a thing for education."

Amy snorted and pushed off the bed. "I know that Donna had a thing for education and you picked up the mantle for her."

"It's the least I can do for her memory," he carefully replied, measuring his words so not to offer too much information. 

She rounded on him, one hand firmly planted on her hip. "She's dead, Josh. Live with it. You weren't engaged to her, for God's sake. She was just your assistant."

Josh wasn't in the mood for a fight, which was exactly what he knew Amy was gunning for, but he still felt the need to justify his motives. "She was my best friend, Amy. Why do you keep trying to minimize that?" He sat up and swung his legs out over the edge of the bed. "Haven't you ever had a friend like that? Or are you just too power hungry to bother with lasting and meaningful relationships?"

He knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that he'd gone too far. It had been ages since he'd talked to Amy like that -- ages since he'd had the will or the bite to fight back. When Donna had gone, she'd taken his spark with her, and now that she was back it seemed his will had also returned. He looked over his shoulder to see his wife staring, open-mouthed, at him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, hoping she couldn't tell that he really didn't mean it. Atonements were running through his head as he desperately tried to come up with something to temporarily mend the fence. Just then, Amy smiled.

"It's good to have you back, J," she said. "Now we can get somewhere." With that said, she walked out of the room, leaving Josh to wonder the real reason for her timely return.

****

* o *

An hour later, Josh was seated at his desk in the heart of the Russell Senate Office Building, reading over the final draft of his speech. Sam had been kind enough to have one of his interns run it over to him earlier that morning. 

Wistfully, he flipped past the neatly typed pages of the final draft to the original copy he'd left with Donna. Her distinctive handwriting littered the pages with scratches and scrawls covering every paragraph. He couldn't help but smile at some of her comments and corrections, and it was good to know that her convictions hadn't changed.

His smile faded when he thought of how things could change in the space of forty-eight hours if his plan didn't work. Amy was in town -- which was something he hadn't expected. If she were behind Donna's abduction, as Josh still thought, then it would be to his benefit to have her front and center when her plan failed. However, if she weren't the cause, he'd be putting her through mountains of needless suffering.

It surprised him to realize how much the thought of Amy suffering didn't trouble him.

"Things are gonna change," he said, turning his focus back to the speech in his hands. "One way or another."

"Change is inevitable."

Josh jumped and dropped the papers to his desk. Sam smiled and stepped into the office. "Your assistant is away," he explained. "Can I come in?"

Recovering, Josh grinned and waved Sam inside. "Representative Sparky! To what do I owe this honor?"

Sam grimaced and closed the door behind him. "Yeah. Remind me to cross C.J. off my Christmas list."

"I think Toby may have converted her over to the non-commercial side of the Force," Josh commented, not bothering to cover his amused smile. C.J.'s pet names for them had been the stuff of White House legend -- something Sam had naively hoped would be *left* in the White House when he'd moved on. C.J. had merely promoted him.

"Whatever," Sam sighed then, switching gears, said, "Donna's been acting a little off."

Josh dismissed his comment and picked up the scattered pages of his speech. "Give the girl a break, Sam. She just came back from the dead."

"I know." He stared down at the desktop for a moment then took a deep breath. "But you haven't been around her in the past few days." He glanced up to meet eyes with Josh, who was starting to get the idea that Sam didn't feel he was being overly apprehensive.

The nagging thread of a doubt began to wiggle into Josh's subconscious, but he quickly shook it off. "There's nothing to worry about, my friend," he explained. "The F.B.I. has everything covered, and the Secret Service is in on it, too. They're ready for any contingency."

"Are you?" Sam stood up and began pacing around the office. "Are you ready to be confronted with the possibility that one or both of you might not make it out of this in one piece? Are you ready to watch the woman you care for so much -- are you ready to watch her lose her mind?"

"Whoa!" Josh leapt to his feet and held his hands out. "What exactly has she been doing to get you all bent out of shape like this?"  


"That's just it," Sam replied, pausing in his steps and shoving his hands into his pant's pockets. "She's totally in shape. Have you seen her? I mean -- well -- don't hit me, but she's amazing!"

"Really?" He realized the cocky grin was on his face before Sam rolled his eyes at him.

"Get it together, Josh. She could take you down, right now."

Josh shrugged and nodded. "She could have taken me two years ago," he stated. "What makes the difference now?"

"I'm just saying it's strange -- that's all." Sam sat down in a huff and closed his eyes. "You haven't seen her."

"Sam, look at me." He waited until Sam opened his eyes and met his stare. "She's been through a lot. I don't expect her to be the same person she was before. No one does. Something happened to her while she was gone, and she's going to have to deal with it in her own way. I just need you there to help her pick up the pieces if starts to lose it."

"Are you sure?" Sam looked less than convinced but conciliatory. 

Josh leaned back and stretched his arms up, locking his hands behind his head. "There's nothing to worry about, Samuel. I have a plan."

"Which comforts me as much as I'm sure it did Donna," Sam added with a chuckle.

Josh could only sigh in reply. Why was it no one took him seriously anymore? He lowered his arms and said, "Amy's in town."

"Already?" The mirth was gone from Sam's face, replaced by a look of concern for his friend's sanity.

"She arrived early this morning and instantly launched into a full scale attack," he explained.

Sam quietly studied his hands for a moment, and Josh recognized the look of wheels turning. "Doesn't this throw a wrench in your infamous plan?" he finally asked.

"I don't know," admitted Josh. "Maybe she's here to test the waters? Nothing really makes sense anymore. At this rate, I need to trust in Donna and her ability to pull this off."

"Can she do it?" Sam voiced the question that Josh knew had been plaguing every member of his so-called team.

Grinning, he looked off to the side and answered cryptically, "Drama was one of her many majors in college, you know." When that garnered no response, he looked back to Sam and saw the seriousness of his gaze and added in an equally serious tone, "I have complete faith in Donna -- not even a shadow of a doubt. She's not going to let any of us down."

****

* o *

"This is the safety, and it's already loaded with blanks." Agent Walters demonstrated the firing mechanism of the small semi-automatic, single action pistol. "You'll have to pull back the slide first to cock the hammer, but make sure the safety is released. Then you're free to fire. Aim for his chest to make it look realistic."

Theresa nodded and smiled, taking the handgun from the agent's hand. She worked through cocking and uncocking it a couple of times, then engaged the safety -- all with a mild look of distaste for the benefit of her audience. "I think I'll be able to handle this," she assured him.

"Good." Erik shifted in his seat at the dining room table and continued. "You'll be scanned at the entrance to the convention hall, but the guards on duty are aware of the situation and will allow your entry with the weapon. In order to make it look realistic, just in case you're being watched, you'll have to carry something large and metallic, like a set of keys or something. Can you manage that?"

Again, Theresa nodded. They were going to make this easier than she ever could have hoped. "I can work something up," she replied. "But how is that going to look realistic? I mean, if they're wanding me and something goes off, I'm going to have to take it off of me for them to wand me again, right?"

"Usually. This time they're going to be distracted. We're going to play on the assumed incompetence of hired help. We'll set something up -- don't worry about that." Erik patted her on the hand and smiled. "I have to get going. If you have any questions, let Sam know and he'll get word to me, okay?"

"Of course." Theresa stood and followed the Agent to the front door, all the while scowling behind his back. "What if no one contacts me, like we're all suspecting," she asked as Erik turned the knob. "I mean, what if for all of this planning, it turns out to be a bust?"

Erik shrugged and stepped out into the cool autumn air. "We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it," he replied. "It's still early. We have to assume you won't be contacted until close to the time for you to act. I wouldn't expect for you to hear anything until sometime tomorrow evening."

Theresa nodded as the good Agent turned and walked down the front steps to the walk below, then shut the door. "Of course you wouldn't expect," she whispered as she examined the prop gun held solidly in her hand. She walked to the bedroom and opened the drawer on the bedside table and tossed it next to the fully loaded handgun that had been delivered to her earlier in the week. "No one expects -- or suspects -- a thing."

****

Tbc . . .


	16. Chapter 16

****

Part Sixteen

"Donna, are you ready?"

Sam's voice carried through the closed bedroom door as Theresa pulled her hair into a neat bun. She checked her appearance once more, then smiled and reached for the bedside table, opening the drawer and removing the handgun. She tucked it into the waistband of her tailored skirt and buttoned her jacket, smoothing it over the slight bulge.

"I'm ready," she called out as she opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

Sam was waiting for her in the foyer, smiling nervously as she joined him. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked for the tenth time since their evening dinner conversation had been interrupted by a mysterious phone call. 

"Of course," she assured him for the tenth time since she'd acted as if the call was the trigger and it hadn't affected her. She smiled warmly at him, but laughed inside, knowing that the Feds were tripping all over themselves after tracing the call to a phone booth outside of an abandoned warehouse in Alexandria. Kink one in Josh Lyman's perfect plan.

"You have everything you need?" Sam looked at the small purse she carried in her hand and raised his brows. "Does it fit in there?"

Theresa shook her head and lifted up the front left side of her jacket, revealing the bulge of her weapon.

Sam shuddered. "God -- I know it's not real but it still creeps me out. I had no idea that's where you had it hidden."

She lowered her jacket and smoothed it over once more, then took Sam's arm. "I know. Let's go or we'll be late. I just want to put this all behind me."

****

* o *

Josh stood at the podium, his speech ready to go on the teleprompter. The room was still empty, save for a few agents stationed in the corners. He reached up and tugged on his ear, feeling the peculiar weight of the earpiece. The Secret Service had insisted he be wired up and he had to admit that the extra precautions were making him feel slightly more confident.

Confident and pudgy. Bulletproof vests weren't very slimming, but again, they had insisted. He tugged at his ear again and reviewed his mental list, making sure nothing had been left to chance.

"Josh, stop playing with it," a voice said into his ear, and he had to focus to keep from jumping.

He let the easy, smart reply go, reasoning that there would be time to goof around later and instead said, "I don't think I could ever get used to this." 

"You'll be fine," Agent Cooper replied from his hidden post to the left of the podium. "Now get over here. They're about to open up the room."

Josh nodded, and taking one last look around, stepped off the dais and joined the group of agents stationed out of sight of the audience. "Has Sam called yet?" he asked, and Agent Presutti nodded, her concerned eyes never leaving the small black and white television screen that showed a closed-circuit view of the hotel lobby.

"He'll be here shortly," she replied. "Everything is looking good, except for the snafu with the trace."

"I should have counted on something like that happening," Josh said, playing with his tie clip. 

Agent Presutti looked up at him and grinned. "No offense, Sir, but this isn't exactly your line of work now, is it?"

Josh looked at her sheepishly and shrugged, "Well, no."

Agent Casper clapped Josh on the shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. "I think what Allyson is trying to say is to leave the spook business to us, and we'll leave the politicking to you, right Allyson?"

"More or less," she replied from over her shoulder, her attention back on the monitor. "Heads up, guys. She's here."

A chill ran up Josh's spine as he craned his neck to see the grainy image on the screen. Sam and Donna were walking toward the convention hall where the guards were casually scanning the attendees as they filtered into the room. He could hear the buzz of the crowd as they began to take their seats and he knew it was getting close to crunch time.

"You ready for this, buddy?" Agent Casper asked, all joking aside.

Josh took in a deep breath and let it out through pursed lips. "Yeah," he replied. "I'm ready. Does someone have their eye on Amy?" He looked to his friend and felt a smidgen of relief when he nodded the affirmative. "Thanks." At the last minute, she had decided not to attend the speech, further altering Josh's plan back to its original course.

"They're in," Agent Presutti remarked. "Congressman Seaborn is on his way back here now."

As if on cue, Sam walked into view and was instantly hooked up to a wireless mike. He was going to stand backstage and keep tabs on everything, too, and Josh had insisted on being able to hear Sam's perspective as well.

"Looks like we're all set," he said, noting the clamminess of his hands as they curled up into fists. The President of the N.E.A. stepped up to the podium and the crowd came to order.

****

* o *

Theresa stood to the side of the room, watching as a woman stepped up to the microphone and started introducing their distinguished speaker. Josh stepped up to the side of the dais and glanced over the crowd, his eyes settling on her for a moment as the speaker continued to laud his many achievements. 

She wasn't sure how much more she could take. With a flick of her wrist, she reached under her jacket and wrapped her hand around the butt of the gun, letting the familiarity of her training take control. 

Slowly, she walked along the side of the room, getting closer and closer to her prey. The room was littered with agents. This she knew, but they all thought this was an act, so she was in no real danger. As she neared the dais she pulled the weapon out and took aim at Josh.

The room fell silent. The speaker at the mike froze and stared at Theresa. Josh stood stock-still and stared her down. She saw him mumble something, and with a flick of her thumb, released the safety. Then, she smiled and winked, letting him think to the last that she was firing blanks.

****

* o *

Josh watched as Donna slowly walked up the side of the room, her hand casually under the seam of her jacket. He had thought that he'd at least get to say some of his speech before the fun and games commenced, but it looked as though Donna wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.

He glanced around the room once more, taking in all the agents that were scattered about and took solace in the fact that he was heavily protected, even though he was lining himself up like a plate at a shooting gallery. Then, he heard a gasp. Simultaneously, a voice in his ear said, "Show time." 

Donna had pulled the gun and was calmly aiming it right for his head. He stood still and stared her down, locking eyes with her.

"That's not the gun I left with her," a voice said in his ear. It was Agent Walters, Josh realized a fraction of a second later, and his heart lurched. 

"Hey, Sam?" he mumbled.

"Yeah," his friend's none-too-calm voice replied.

"Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"That was my plan backfiring."

Everything seemed to slow down and he watched as Donna flicked the safety with her thumb. Then, she smiled and winked. 

"Talk to her!" Sam shouted in his ear. "She's in there somewhere! You have to talk her down!"

With the gun still leveled at his head, she took another step forward, and Josh instinctively raised his hands. "Hey, Donna, whatcha doin?" He smiled and hoped his voice didn't sound as terrified out loud as it did in his head. His heart was threatening to beat out of his chest, and he felt lightheaded, memories coming back to him at full throttle, ready to take him out of the game before Donna had her chance.

"Josh," Sam shouted again. "Talk *to* her."

"Donna," he said, still back stepping as she advanced on him. "You don't want to do this. I know you don't. You don't want to hurt me, remember?"

She smiled, but there was something cold in her eyes -- something he had never seen before.

Something that scared the hell out of him.

"You'll never be able to live with yourself, Donna," he continued pleading. "You don't know what it's like to have to live when the person you love is gone. I know you love me, Donna."

Her eyes wavered for a moment, and she shook her head slightly before righting herself. She was close enough now that he could see her knuckles whiten as she tightened her grip. Josh was fully aware that this was his last chance. The room was full of men and women with their weapons drawn, ready to take her down. It was all he could think of -- not of his own mortality, but that he might lose her again.

"Donna, I love you."

She pulled the trigger.

****

Tbc . . .

****


	17. Conclusion

****

Part Seventeen

Her dreams had been filled with clouded images -- ones of violence and bloodshed. But Josh loved her. It was that simple fact that kept her from screaming and hiding within herself. She fought to regain control of her mind and memories and, as she did, she could sense a tangible presence. Through all the madness, there was a feeling of peace. He was with her -- she could feel him as if he were standing right beside her.

The visions began to swirl into the mist and reality began to take shape. She had shot him. Her last vivid memory was of pulling the trigger and him dropping at her feet. Then there was another sound, another crack of gunfire and she had felt a sharp pain in the base of her neck. That was where the memories ended and the insanity began. As she replayed the scene over and over in her mind, there was something more. A beeping sound, rhythmic and soothing, getting louder and louder as each moment passed. 

She struggled to open her eyes and as she did, felt someone squeeze her hand. With a start, she tried to pull away but found she had no control over her limbs. Her eyelids felt like ten-ton weights, but she was able to hear everything happening around her with perfect clarity.

"She's waking up. Call the doctor."

The voice sounded so familiar, and she wanted to shout out to him, but her own voice was in league with her limbs and wasn't cooperating, either.

"It's okay," he soothed. "Stay still. We're getting the doctor." Again, he squeezed her hand and she found that she was able to return the gesture, to the delight of her guardian. The joy in his voice was palpable as he whispered, "Come back to me, Donna."

Her mind screamed with the realization that Josh was sitting next to her, keeping watch over her. She fought through the remnants of the fog and opened her eyes to the dimly lit room. The beeping was still there and she realized instantly that she was hooked up to monitors of some sort. As her eyes became accustomed to the filtered light, she took in her surroundings, coming to rest on a visage she had thought she would never see again.

He looked like hell. Josh's normally unruly hair was beyond hope, and his eyes were ringed with the telltale baggage of too many sleepless nights. His left arm was in a sling, but his right was fine, and it was with that hand that he held on to her with all his might. She looked back to his eyes and furrowed her brow in worry when she saw how glazed and tired they really were.

She had so many questions. What had happened? How had she gotten there? What had happened to him? She tried to speak but couldn't force the words. 

"Relax," Josh told her, a quaver in his voice. "I know you have questions. As soon as the doctor looks you over, I'll tell you everything, okay?"

Donna nodded and squeezed his hand once more, the warmth of his skin calming her worries.

****

* o *

Josh watched from a few feet away as the specialist and his assistant checked Donna's vitals. She was gradually regaining her ability to speak and was answering their questions with a weak and gravely voice. After what seemed like an eternity, the doctor turned his attention away from Donna.

"Mr. Lyman," he said, taking Josh by the arm and leading him a few more feet away. "She's going to be just fine. She's still going to be tired and groggy -- that's just the after-effect of the tranquilizer darts. She was hit with so many that it's no surprise she's taken this long to come out of it."

Josh nodded and looked over the doctor's shoulder at her prone form. "Is she going to be okay?"

"She'll be just fine," he repeated. "You can help her take some small sips of water, but nothing more than that. She may be queasy for a while longer. You can talk to her, but don't upset her, and don't be surprised if she drifts off in the middle of a sentence. She's been through a lot."

"We all have," Josh agreed, shaking the doctor's hand with his good hand. "Thank you." The doctor nodded and left, leaving him alone with Donna and a room full of questions. He returned to his seat at her bedside and set about pouring a small cup of water.

"I suppose you're thirsty?" he asked, holding the cup out to her, tipping the straw so she could grasp it with her lips. "Take small sips, okay?"

She nodded slightly and took a couple sips, licking her lips when he pulled the cup away. "What happened?" she asked.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" He took in her appearance. Sure, she was awake, but she'd been through hell and had been tranqued into oblivion.

"I have to know," she whispered.

Josh placed the cup on the table and clasped her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "What's the last thing you remember?" he cautiously asked.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before replying. "We were at your speech and I was going to shoot you," she began. Her throat was still raw, so she spoke slowly, swallowing after every few words. "It wasn't me, though. I was going to do it. I was really going to shoot you."

Josh snorted and nodded toward the sling cradling his left arm. "You sort of did," he remarked lightly. "Either you're a terrible shot, or I got really lucky."

"You broke through to me," she said with a smile. "I winged you on purpose."

"Do you remember what I said?" he prodded.

"I do," she replied, tightening her grip on his hand. "I remember everything now."

Josh closed his eyes and swallowed past the lump forming in his throat. "I meant it," he said.

Her voice was barely a whisper but he heard her clearly. "I know," she said. "But you have to tell me what happened after that."

With a chuckle, he realized how much he had missed her inquisitive nature. "Okay," he relented. "I'll tell you everything, but you need to lay still and rest. Let me know if it gets to be too much for you."

"I promise." She settled back into her pillows and motioned for him to begin.

He explained everything, relating even the slightest detail, knowing she would question him if he left anything out. He told her how the F.B.I. had known all along that she had been contacted early. They had already put a trace on Sam's phone, immediately after their meeting at C.J. and Toby's house, and knew she was no longer in control of her actions. The call had been traced back to Alan Shastro's hideout and his phone tapped as well, so even though he made the second, dummy, call to her from a pay phone, they were still able to catch him in the end.

The F.B.I. had decided to keep Josh and Sam out of the loop so as to maintain a level of believability. There was a good chance they were all being watched, so they had to keep the possibility of something going wrong to a minimum. 

Josh went on to tell her how the entire room had been filled with plain-clothed F.B.I. and Secret Service agents so they could keep the whole ordeal undercover. There would be no mention of anything in the press. Everyone had been equipped with tranquilizer guns, just in case something went horribly wrong -- another tidbit of information Josh had not been privy to -- and that was what had knocked her out.

No one had been certain that Donna had regained control so when she fired the shot at Josh, everyone had reacted, realizing after the fact that he *had* been shot, but it had been only a graze.

Donna had been out for four days, and in that amount of time, Alan Shastro had been apprehended and had fully confessed to everything, striking a plea bargain to avoid the death penalty.

"This is where it gets interesting," Josh said, interrupting his narrative for a personal aside. "He offered to turn in the person who had hired him to do this to you."

"And?" Donna prompted. The suspense was nearly killing her.

"I think an 'I told you so' is in order," he beamed. 

"It *was* Amy?" She shook her head in bewilderment. "And you're happy about this?"

His smile faded and he quickly amended, "Well, not about the part that my wife tried to have me killed . . . but . . . I *was* right." 

"Of course you were," she placated him with a grin. "You're always right -- when will I ever learn?"

"That's what I keep saying but no one seems to listen," he replied, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. "Anyway, he turned her in, and she's in custody right now. 'Conspiracy to commit murder'. I think that's grounds enough for divorce, don't you?"

Donna nodded then paused, closing her eyes. Josh had thought she had fallen asleep when she asked, "Why?"

He was taken aback by the question. "Why, what?" he replied.

"Why did she do it?"

Josh nodded, knowing Donna wouldn't be able to put her demons to rest until she knew what the motivation had been behind Amy's actions. Sadly, he knew what he could tell her wouldn't even scratch the surface. "I asked her that same question. She was power hungry. It was like I thought all along."

"Why me, though? I mean, I'm sure there could have been someone less conspicuous to use, right?"

Her hold on his hand tightened as she tried to figure it out on her own. He had hoped they could leave that portion of the story for later, but he knew she would fret over it and eventually make herself sick with worry if he didn't tell her right away. "It had to be you," he explained. "It wasn't enough for her to kill me. She wanted to break me, too. She knew how I cared about you, long before I really did. You said it yourself. Poetic justice."

She shook her head and he knew it was all too new and confusing to make much sense. "But how does one go from being -- well -- her, to doing what she did?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I suppose years of therapy might sort that out, but as it stands, she's responsible, and she's going to pay."

Donna relaxed and sighed deeply; letting his words sink in. He hoped they would bring her some comfort. Then she asked, "What about me?"

He grinned and patted her hand. "That's easy. You're going to rest and recover. Then, you're coming to dinner."

"Dinner?" She cocked her head to the side, the twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

"Dinner. If Mrs. Bartlet doesn't see you soon, I'm going to have to relocate to another country."

****

* o *

Two weeks later, Josh and Donna sat in the living room of the President's New Hampshire farmhouse. Dinner had been excellent, a roast and vegetables that the First Lady had insisted upon fixing herself. It had been friendly and informal, although the retelling of the faux-shooting was never easy to bear.

"What are your plans now, Donna?" Mrs. Bartlet asked, sipping from a mug of steaming coffee.

Donna leaned against Josh and sighed. "We're headed to Wisconsin to see my family. I have a lot of explaining to do, it seems. I plan on restoring my hair color as soon as we get back to D.C. After that? I don't know. There's always Sam's offer, although it might not be easy to work for someone who's afraid of me."

Abbey raised an eyebrow and looked to Josh for an explanation.

"It seems Sam walked in on Donna while she was working out," Josh said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer. His arm was now out of the sling, the graze almost fully healed. "He's convinced she could kick his ass."

"I could," Donna assured everyone, winning a chuckle from Jed.

"That's why I offered to hire her on as my personal bodyguard," Josh continued. "It seems that with the restoration of her memory, she's also been able to remember all of that training she went through. She's pretty much lethal."

"Doesn't that mean she could just as easily kick your ass, Josh?" the President pointed out, earning a smack on the leg from his wife.

"Yes, Sir, I believe she could," he admitted.

"She could do that before, Josh," Abbey told him, winking at Donna. "In fact, I'd need more than two hands to count the number of times she's smacked you down in the past."

"Yes, Ma'am. That's true." Josh sighed and turned to Donna, touching his forehead to hers. "But now she can do it with finesse."

"I'm just glad everything worked out," Jed said as he took a sip of his brandy. "I know it was a rough road to travel, but the destination looks to be well worth it."

****

* o *

Later that evening, Donna sat on the front porch, alone with her thoughts. The night was cold and quiet, and from her seat on the steps, she could see a thousand stars twinkling in the night sky. Two years had been stolen from her past but her future stretched out before her like the Milky Way . . . and she was terrified.

"You're going to catch a cold."

She smiled when he spoke. He'd been standing behind her, silently watching for several minutes, but she'd known of his presence the entire time. Briefly, she wondered if that was due, in part, to her training, or if she was finally getting back in synch with him -- or both.

"Come sit," she said, and the creak of the old wood under his feet told her he was complying. He sat close to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and looked out into the night sky. She knew something was on his mind, but she wasn't going to rush him. 

"I got the papers yesterday," he said, breaking the silence. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the white plume of steam coming from his mouth as he spoke. "Everything looks to be in order, although I'm going to have Sam look through them before I sign. You know -- because in spite of my law degree, some people seem to think I'm not a 'real' lawyer."

"That's a good idea," Donna agreed with mock-seriousness, leaning her head on his chest.

"I knew you'd think so."

He lapsed into silence again, giving Donna time to reflect. Things between them had been baby steps since she'd been released from the hospital. Sam had insisted she remain with him until she could get a job and a place of her own, although there was still the standing offer for her to come to work for him. The offer was tempting, and it would be good to be on the inside when he inevitably made his run for the White House. Contrary to Sam's weak protests, she knew he'd end up there eventually.

Nothing more had been said about Josh's words that afternoon in the convention hall. Sure, it had been mentioned when she had awakened in the hospital, but she had been groggy, and he had just been through the emotional wringer. So they still hung heavily between them -- the elephant in the room that no one wanted to mention. Had he meant what he said? Was it just a means for him to get through to her in a moment of panic? She didn't want to ask him for fear that he might tell her the truth and have it be something she didn't want to hear.

Now, sitting together in the stillness of a cold New Hampshire evening, they were finally alone. There was finally a chance for some real conversation without Sam or C.J. or Toby or any number of other friends or relatives being in the room. This was their first true moment alone since their conversation in the hospital room when she'd first awakened.

"We need to talk," Josh said, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. 

"You read my mind," she admitted, feeling silly and trite for saying so.

"If all goes well," he continued, passing over her comment in his haste to speak his feelings, "I should be a single man by the first of the year."

"Mmm-hmm." 

"I think you should take the job with Sam."

This was going to be one of those conversations, she realized, where the twists and turns would be enough to render a normal human unconscious. "Why is that?" she asked.

"I just think it would be a good experience."

"Really." She paused, wondering if he was expecting something more from her.

"And he needs all the help he can get," he added for emphasis.

Donna grinned and asked, "What about you? I seem to recall a certain Deputy Chief of Staff that couldn't tie his own tie without his trusted assistant."

Josh was quiet for a moment, then he whispered, "He grew up."

"How sad," Donna replied, snuggling closer to him for warmth.

"Not really," Josh explained, and she could feel him shaking his head as he did. "He finally realized how much that assistant really meant to him, and he knows that if he begs for her to come back to work for him, he won't be able to date her like he wants."

Donna laughed and pulled away from him to be able to look him in the eye. "Can we stop talking in the third person now?"

"You started it."

"And now I'm ending it."

He continued to look straight ahead so she was rewarded with only one dimple when he grinned and said, "Do we have to? It's kind of fun."

"It's giving me a headache," she said, lightly punching him in the arm.

"Okay." He turned his head slightly and winked at her, starting her heart hammering in her chest when she saw the mischief in his eyes.

She took in a deep breath and asked the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. "So, what are you saying?"

Josh sucked in a breath as well, as he turned his attention back to the expanse of night sky. Then, he exhaled and turned back to her, his eyes mirroring the light of his smile. "I'm saying, Donnatella, that I don't want you to work for me -- assistant, bodyguard or otherwise. I'm saying I want you to date me."

Her heart had stopped when he had turned to her, and it took a moment for his words to register. "Date you?" she asked, knowing full well that she hadn't misheard him.

"Yes." His reply was simple and straightforward.

"Why?" She couldn't help but ask him, and she knew from the look he gave her that he was expecting it.

His arm snaked around her shoulder, and he pulled her close to him, their noses nearly touching and his lips inches from hers when he whispered, "Because I love you madly?" 

"Good answer," she said as he closed the short distance between them, though she realized afterward that it had come out as more of a sigh. The gentleness of his kiss was breathtaking, and Donna found herself wrapping her arms around his neck to keep from melting away. This wasn't a kiss to claim her, she realized as his arms tightened around her, pulling her even closer. This was a kiss of promise, of growing old together and being able to spend your life with your best friend. Time had been stolen from them; but that had only served to awaken them to the notion that life waits for no one.

She knew then that she'd take the job with Sam, and she'd eventually help him get elected. She'd sit in the White House and listen to Josh's complaints while he counseled his best friend as Chief of Staff -- or, more likely, Vice President. They would take each day one at a time and survive whatever life threw at them.

****

The End


End file.
